Walk The Line
by Meaghan McCormak
Summary: 1956. Blaine moves to Lima, Ohio from New York. He befriends David and Nick, becomes fond of a few places and finds the most complex, frustrating and beautiful boy he'll ever have the -complicated- pleasure to meet.
1. Prologue

_June, 1956_

He got off the train after five hours of noisy travelling. He was tired already and looking out the window had gotten boring about four hours ago. The landscape wasn't exactly the most beautiful Blaine had ever seen in his life and he had considered playing guitar, but he decided not to because he wasn't alone. There was only another girl, around his age, but she had been asleep for the whole trip and her heavy breathing was starting to exasperate Blaine a bit. Finally he heard the conductor's voice through the intercom, yelling the two words he had been craving for the whole time: _"Lima, Ohio. Next stop: Lima, Ohio"._

Blaine grabbed his things as soon as he could and left the compartment, passing by the man with the little golden bell. As soon as the train came to a halt he lightly hopped off, took a deep breath and started walking across the narrow station.

The day was sunny and he was starting to regret his clothing choice. He took off the cardigan and went to the bus stop where he was supposed to take one to the town, where the new house was waiting for him. Since his parents were working, they would be moving in the next couple of days.

The dark haired boy waited a good ten minutes until the old trash arrived.

"Another hour and a half," Blaine sighed on the inside "this should be fun," he thought after sitting down at the back. Perhaps he could get some sleep. He stared bored out of the window for the second time of the day and felt like he was having somewhat of a frustrating déjà vu. He had no idea why he was feeling so itchy. Perhaps it was just the fatigue of getting up early, catching an overwhelming-five-hour train journey, having to move to the new house all by himself and being now in a both smelly and loud bus. Closing his eyes, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, then leading his fingers up to his temple and forehead, trying to stay calm. He heard laughter near him and opening his eyes, he vaguely looked around.

"Looks like you're one irritated buddy," a handsome guy with dark hair and a man beret chuckled. He had a sharp nose and clear and cocky eyes and was resting his elbow on the backrest of his crummy old seat. Against the window opposite to Blaine's and on the row behind him, was another way; he was Afro-American and had a huge mouth, his looks were just as good but he had a kinder expression than the other one.

"Huh... Yeah, I had a... long day," Blaine replied as nicely as possible, yet in a tired tone. Why were these guys even talking to him?

"Where are you headin' to now?" the other boy said, nodding in his direction.

"Downtown."

"Business?"

"No, I'm moving here," he explained and added, not giving them a chance to ask, "from New York."

"Whoa, the big city," one of them calmly whistled as the other one grew a smile on his face "Nice. We come from Akron. We got a job; construction," he kept on going.

"This is Nick, I'm David," the black guy introduced themselves and held a hand for Blaine to shake. He did so and tried to smile as conveniently and politely as possible. They looked nice, but he was just so tired and the heat was striking on him, making his whole body feel drowsy. Nick seemed to notice because he laughed once more and said "Don't worry fella, go to sleep. We'll wake you up when we get there". Blaine couldn't help but to laugh a bit too.

"Thanks," he smiled apologetically and snuggled against the window, falling asleep right away.

* * *

><p>"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!" he heard a cheerful voice.<p>

"We're here already," the other voice–if he was right, it belonged to that David guy- said. He blearily rubbed his eyes, trying to ease the sunlight in his eyes.

"Thank you," his voice came out, rather hoarse. He got up and grabbed his baggage weakly.

"Here, let me help you," Nick bubbly said and lifted the bag without a problem, placing it on his shoulder. Blaine frowned at how easily he did it, but said nothing. He couldn't be more grateful, honestly. They got down the bus and stood in front of an empty gas station. The stores were mostly shiny and colorful, yet not bright. Easy on the eyes. "Nice enough," Blaine thought.

"So, where are you heading, again?" Nick asked

"Hmm, it's… Red Street and Winson Road, is that right?" He took a piece of paper out of his back pocket. The sleepiness and the fact that he had never set a foot on that place were making him feel pretty lost.

"That's really close. We'll take you there," David offered.

"Yeah, besides, it looks like you're not solid enough to carry this in that dozy state of yours," Nick winked at him, chuckling once more.

"Easy for you to say. You work in constructions and are a bit more energetic than me," Blaine dared to joke back smiling faintly.

"Yeah, working ten hours non-stop, followed by a seven hour trip isn't exhausting at all," the boy retorted. Blaine gave in with a soft laugh.

"Touché."

David walked ahead of them, leading his eyes from the scrap of paper to the houses, looking for the right address.

"Here it is," he said, stopping at once.

"Thank you so much guys," the new kid said, rummaging through his pockets, looking for the key.

"Don't even mention it, huh…" David asked smiling.

"Anderson. Sorry, Blaine Anderson," the two guys nodded and beamed in return.

"So what are you planning to do later, Blaine?" the same guy continued.

"I was actually thinking of sleeping," he spoke his mind, making them laugh.

"It's eleven o'clock in the morning. Are you going to sleep the whole day?"

"No, I don't think so," he submitted.

"We can show you around if you want to. Get you to know the place," Nick invited this time.

"Yeah, sure, that'd be great. Yeah, thank you guys," he said. Gee, these guys were so nice.

"No problem," and "Don't mention it," they replied.

"So, we'll pick you up right here around... six in the afternoon. That should give you enough time to shower, sleep and unpack a bit. Is that okay?" David said.

"Yes. Yes, of course. Thanks, again, bye," he thanked them one last time and greeted his new friends as they left and he went inside the house.

The place was luminous and seemed quite big, so that was good. It had furniture already, so Blaine could sleep in a nice bed without a problem, in his own room. It had a large living room at his right, and a short hallway in front of him led to the kitchen and a small bathroom. At his left there was a stair, right up against the wall, which led to the two bedrooms and the larger bathroom. The place, now that Blaine looked at it, was beautiful. You could totally tell his family wasn't exactly poor, but whatever. He entered his new room and was, surprisingly, quite happy with it. It was also big, with a broad window and a comfortable bed. As soon as Blaine saw it, he didn't think of it twice, he stumbled on it.

"Oh, this is just…" he mumbled, part of his mouth crashed against the soft pillow. Once again, he fell fast asleep.

* * *

><p>At six thirty David, Nick and Blaine were walking down the streets of Lima, Ohio. The place was without a doubt, delightful. Blaine found that he felt comfortable there; he didn't think it would be so easy on him, but with his two folks by his side everything seemed better already.<p>

"And that's George's grocery store. Over there _Fussell's Ice Cream Shop_ and that's pretty much all you should know. Oh, and that's the _Hummel's Tire and lube_. Mechanics," David pointed, explaining and showing Blaine around. Luckily, he was used to moving around by himself back in New York, so if they left, he'd know how to get back to his new place in a blink.

"So, Blaine," Nick started, making him look up "are you planning to do something tonight? There's a big dance at eight and _we're_ certainly going," he smirked.

"Oh… No, thanks, guys. I mean, it sounds fun and all, but I think I want to spend some time at my new house," he apologized.

"Don't worry, man—" David accepted, but Nick interfered "What? Come on, there'll be a lot of ladies," he winked again, grinning at him and putting an arm across Blaine's back. The curly haired fella smiled softly and averted his gaze.

He was not telling the guys, he didn't know how they would take it but Blaine Anderson had a tiny problem. Well, not too tiny, but let's just say it hadn't taken over his life or anything so he could pretty much ignore it. He was eighty percent sure he didn't like girls. He hadn't been able to act on many feelings, since he had never had any but he felt much more attracted to boys than girls. He still wasn't certain about it, but he realized how he felt when handsome guys touched and talked to him. He had never had a boyfriend either or anything remotely like it.

The first time this idea had crossed his mind, he got immensely scared about it but with time he got used to it enough to only flinch when he thought of it.

"So? What do you say?" Nick pushed still smiling.

"Maybe some other day, but not tonight, sorry," Blaine insisted as his friend shrugged and let him go.

"Want us to walk you home, Blaine?" David proposed while the three of them kept on walking and Nick kicked a small stone.

"Nah, it's okay. I think I can go alone from here on," he thanked.

"Okay, so we'll see you tomorrow? Is three okay for you?" his friend continued.

"Sure" and with a smile and a small wave he turned around and left. The guys looked at him.

"He's funny," Nick opined watching him walk with both hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, funny fella," David agreed. "He's really nice though"

"Yeah, not arguing you _that_ one," the other continued with a giggle "So, _Jim's_?" his friend smiled widely and elbowed him friendly.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, that was short. This is the prologue and I live in Argentina so.. English is not my first language, but I'm trying to make it as right as possible and blaineywainey's helping me. Amazing girl, awesome writer (she wrote All Shook Up, and I'm kind of taking my inspiration from that. Best fanfiction EVER. Seriously, go read it). Hope you like it.<em>

_I'm really trying this out, we'll see how it goes. By the way, the name it's because of Johnny Cash's song,_Walk The Line_, listen to it, it's amazing. I'll be relating lots of things to songs (especially Elvis, Frank Sinatra, Johnny Cash and another couple of guys, I'll let you know)._

_PS: I had to made a couple of changes. I always mixed Wes and David so here I described Wes as the black guy, when it's actually the other way around. I liked "Wes" better, but I imagined David, so… change of names there._

_Adieu._

_Second PS: Sorry, I had to change the year again. Only four years, it's just that in 1952 Elvis and Johnny weren't musicians yet, so..)_

[RVWD]


	2. Lake Chase

"Blaine, over here!" he heard David's voice somewhere in the diner. He peered around and caught sight of his friend's hand waving in the air to his right. With a still shy yet growing smile on his face, he walked towards them.

_Jim's_ was the place where, according to David and Nick, "the best food is served, the coldest drinks are kept and the nicest people are". It was a diner both of them had been going to ever since they set a foot in Lima.

The place was only half full and Timberwolf gray tables were in row, always against the broad, long window that took over the walls. It was pretty large, L-shaped and constituted by pastel colors, nowhere a monotonous spot to the eyes, full of trimmings on the walls, such as shiny vinyl records, pictures of famous artists and, in one place, an acoustic guitar that looked old and worn out, but it was beautiful. Most of the people were sitting at the red and shiny counter that traveled easily a quarter of the place, while Nick and David were in a cornered booth, almost everyone drinking Diet Coke.

"How are you, guys?" he asked as he took seat next to Nick.

"Great."

"Rested," Nick answered, moving his lips to the straw. "Don't you want anything?" he questioned**.**

"No, thanks, I'm good," Blaine rejected politely.

"Any plans for today?" Nick went on, setting his eyes on his glass again.

"Not yet," he shrugged.

"Wanna go to the dance?" his friend insisted. Both David and Blaine chortled.

"There's another one tonight?" the newbie asked.

"Get used to it, buddy. In this town there's not much to do, so teenagers—"

"Not to say their hormones," Blaine added under his breath, making Nick giggle.

"—tend to organize dances. Really often."

"Yeah, I noticed," he observed, nodding at what David was saying to him across the table. He took a deep breath.

There were many parties back in New York too, but he wasn't used to attending those either; instead he would just hang out with his friends and do other things. But this wasn't New York alright. He loved music. A lot. There was no denying in that or whatsoever, but partying wasn't his favorite activity and he wasn't even sure he was ready for it yet; in a small city where he was new and didn't know anyone. Well, he did know David and Nick but what if they hooked up with some girl and he was left alone. In the worst case scenario, he _could_ leave, but still…

"Hey, guys," Blaine called and both of them looked up at him. "Do you have, like… girlfriends or something?" they instantly chuckled loudly.

"Nick here has been dating a girl for three years. And I've been with Angela for five months now," he explained. Blaine nodded once more, surprised. Nick didn't seem the kind of guy who dated girls for that long time. "_Well, you learn something every day,_" he thought.

"What about you, Blaine? You got a girlfriend?" he carried on.

"Huh… No," he said and the fella next to him stared.

"No?" he pried with astonishment. Blaine narrowed his eyes.

"No," he repeated. Nick raised his eyebrows and David chortled once more. "What? Why?"

"Nothing, you just look like the guy that could get a girl easily," Nick conceded.

"Have you ever had a girlfriend, Blaine?" the other asked, a soft smile playing on his lips. Blaine laughed and simply shrugged, shaking his head. This time even David looked taken aback.

"Okay, what?" Nick started again in disbelief, making Blaine giggle nervously.

"What?"

"You've never had a girlfriend," he quoted. "In like… the seventeen years you've been alive—you're seventeen, right?" he paused and Blaine nodded. "you have never had a girlfriend," still not believing it.

"No, I have not. Why does it shock you so much?"

"Don't you have any hormones, Blaine? Doesn't your body talk to you, man?" he preached, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Yeah, aren't you connected with your soul?" David mocked, following Nick's lead who merely glared at him.

"You, shush," he pointed at him and then turned to Blaine again. "We're going to this party tonight, and you're coming with us," he declared.

"But…" he began. He hadn't even thought of what to say, he just started complaining, waiting for Nick to say something like. "No _but_s, you're coming" but he was just staring expectantly at him.

"But what?"

"I just don't feel like dating," he said and added "_any girls_" on the inside. Nick just glanced at him.

"I don't get it, what do you mean you "_don't_ feel like dating"?"

"Nick, just leave the poor kid alone. He looks terrified. If he isn't ready, he isn't ready," David stepped in and Blaine felt a huge relief within his chest and smiled awkwardly.

"I just… can't believe it," Nick surrendered and went back to his Diet Coke.

"You look sad," David pointed out.

"I'm not sad, I'm just… disappointed," he said, and took another sip of his drink. The other two laughed and David winked at Blaine, who swallowed.

"Oh, now that I remember, I do have to go to a supermarket or something; I don't really have any home supplies or food. Which should I go to?" he questioned, the sudden image of the bloody mess his new house was flashing before his eyes. He still had to unpack, since the day before he had practically fainted, until his two friends woke him up.

"What are you talking about? We're going with you."

"Oh, but, that's not necessary-"

"What's not necessary? We're friends, Blaine. Friends never do enough for each other," Nick mocked dramatically while David rolled his eyes. Blaine's face lit up once more. He had definitely been lucky about those two.

* * *

><p>They spent another while at the diner until daybreak arrived and they left the place.<p>

"Your loss," Nick shrugged when Blaine stated he wasn't going to the dance. Some people would've probably gotten angry at a new friend who's constantly joking, but Blaine was way too nice and didn't use to be annoyed because of those kinds of personages. After all, Nick didn't say those things in a hurtful way, he was just kidding around.

"Thank you guys. It just feels like you're being way too nice to me," Blaine thanked them again. He feared, though, that he was coming off as a lame nuisance for thanking and apologizing all the time, but he still thought it was necessary.

"Don't even mention it, man," David patted his back.

"Yeah, we're glad to," Nick beamed.

They went to a small supermarket on McKibben Street and started walking around the place, looking for the things Blaine had to buy.

"Do you want or need something in particular?" David cared, looking over his shoulder.

"I did make a list yesterday, but my parents are coming in like… three days, so they'll take care of it then," he whispered distractedly, scanning the products. David sighed.

"Where in God's name is Nick?" he finally sighed exasperated, looking around. Blaine chuckled while grabbing a milk carton and checking the scrap of paper.

"I need butter," he said to himself and David pointed towards a shelf to his right.

"There. Wait for me here, I'll be right back," he told him and left muttering under his breath.

Blaine was eyeing the place searching for the butter, when he heard giggles behind him. When he turned around all he could see was a guy slightly taller than him, light brown hair being chased and fooling around with a girl, until they just disappeared a moment later. Blaine just frowned; _"What the hell was that?"_ he thought but decided to ignore it and keep on looking for the things he had yet to find.

"—I'm telling ya', that McHover girl shouldn't be fooling around with Hummel," Nick and David came back whispering and faintly laughing.

"Did you find the butter?"

* * *

><p>It was only one thirty when David and Nick walked Blaine to his house to help him with the groceries' bags just to leave again afterwards. This time they grabbed some bicycles Nick and David owned and went on for hours under the clear and happy sky, laughing and chatting till they reached a quiet lake. The place was surrounded by small, bright trees and it was so peaceful Blaine almost fell asleep under the shade of a pine; he would have if David hadn't splashed him whole with water.<p>

"Oh my…" he started screaming, suddenly coming out of that cloud of drowsiness that was in fact pulling him down. Gaping, he looked down to his now wet, freezing clothes. After a moment, he lifted his gaze, finding David's guilty eyes. With a smirk, he got up and dangerously whispered "You are a dead man," his friend looked confused before reacting as fast as possible. Blaine started chasing him all around the lake, running in circles, while Nick laughed with tears in his eyes. After a while he damned the other boy, it wasn't fair; his legs were far shorter than David's.

"Seriously man, you're freakishly tall," he cursed, the other two still laughing.

The clouds started to take over the entire sky and a soft breeze was blowing too, so they decided to sit on the grass, still warm for another while. After a couple of minutes –faster than they would've liked- the summer weather turned into a cold, windy one and they grabbed the bikes to get back to town. This time they went slower, pedaling at their own speed. When they finally reached Lima, they hang out another while, walking down the streets. Blaine was starting to grow fond of this place; it was so calm, so different from New York. He still had to get adapted to the small population, to the fact that there was no Park Avenue with classy, elegant people walking around. No skyscrapers, no big stores, no streets full of fancy cars; Lima seemed like a lovely place, people were nice, he had made awesome friends without even trying and the new house was also comfortable and pleasant. Jackpot.

At five o'clock sharp, Nick left for a date with his girlfriend, Holly "She doesn't like it when I'm late," he explained with a smirk.

"We always sit here, this is kind of our booth, so get used to it," David said when they sat down in their usual place at _Jim's_, after ordering a Coke and a strawberry milkshake.

"I'm exhausted," was all that came out of his dry mouth. He stretched against the seat dreaming already of his precious bed.

"Yeah, long day alright," the young man agreed.

"You're lucky I'm too tired to _accidentally_spill your soda all over you," he moaned with a tiny grin, as the waiter placed the cold, wet bottle and Blaine's beverage on the white table.

"Why don't you like dancing, anyway?" he asked out of thin air. Blaine hesitated for a minute or so before answering, eyes casually on the table and scratching his cheek "I mean… I'm not trying to push you or anything. At all, it just came to my mind."

"It's not that I don't like dancing," he began, not sure of what to say "I love music, I know how to play guitar and piano. I also sing, so it's not that I don't like dancing, is just that… I don't feel comfortable. It's just the environment, you know?" he fidgeted, touching his straw and straightening his shirt "People grope each other and I'm not too fond of that," he tittered. David just looked at him for a moment before replying.

"You know I can tell you're not being completely honest with me, don't you?" he confessed with a small grin on his face. Blaine frowned, not entirely sure how to react "It's fine, don't worry. You'll tell us when you're ready or whatever."

"Sure," he sighed "Thanks, David," he murmured, stating that he indeed had a tiny secret. Nick wasn't there, but he knew he would've said something similar. He was too grateful for their sudden friendship; they weren't only hilarious, they also were some of the kindest people Blaine had ever met. He in fact feared he would get too affective of them too soon "A lot," he added nonetheless and he could see in David's face that he meant everything he said.

* * *

><p><em>Short one, but still.. Working on it. It's 3.42. Good thing I don't have school tomorrow. GOOD THING I DON'T HAVE A FREAKING LAW EXAM ON MONDAY. Hate that subject, seriously. Whatever, hope you like it once more and... That's about it, really :)<em>

_Thanks to blaineywainey who's still helping me a bit with this. She wrote All Shook Up. Love that fanfic more and more each day._

_By the way, you can download the soundtrack here:_

_.com/?27sx3rewczv8vlz_

_Gotta love Oldies._

_3 Love you all_

PS: That last line is so cheesy, I can't even.

The ones that have a [RVWD] at the end are the ones that I'm going through again and correcting (ReVieWed).


	3. The Andersons

That day he got up on the wrong side of the bed. There were no curtains or blinds –something he would have to put in there some time in the future- to stop the sun from showering his whole bedroom with a blinding and most annoying light. At seven a.m. Definitely, off to an awful start. There was no way Blaine could go back to sleep since it was impossible to turn off that damn, shiny thing up in the sky. He rubbed his entire face with the back of his hand, trying to wipe the stupor off his face. Still squinting and internally cursing at the morning he sat on the verge of his bed.

"At least it's a nice day out," he moaned, dragging his feet to the door and tripping. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, summoning patience "No, no! Come on, shake it off," he said to himself went bouncing and jumping to the bathroom, as though trying to leave the bad vibes among the way. Starting the day with a shower seemed like a nice, good idea; that was, until he actually hopped into the shower. After taking off his clothes and turning it on, he only could feel the warm water wash away his bad mood for a couple of minutes. It was a good thing he took short showers because otherwise he would've died frozen in there. There wasn't even a good reason for that to happen given that the first day he had had a long, steamy and relaxing bath that had lasted no less than an hour. Wrapped up in a towel he went to his room, still trying not to burst into bloody screaming, and grabbed some clothes; nothing wrong with that. He walked down the stairs to the kitchen, putting water in the kettle. He bent down, inspecting the fridge, while slowly drumming with his fingers. He just grabbed some eggs and bread and then headed to the toaster, the boiling water calling him already. The moment he grabbed one of the lousy cups he had bought with David and Nick –he had forgotten to take any with him from his old home- it slipped from his hands and almost crashed against the counter; if it weren't for his fast reflexes…

"Are you kidding me?" he basically screamed at the air above him. He threw his hands to his hair, pulling of his curls "_Yeah, there's no way I'm smiling this morning,_" he thought, pursing his lips. Suddenly, he came up with an idea and basically run off to the living room. Looking through a box, he pulled out a vinyl record and felt the excitement growing inside of him. He placed it carefully on the phonograph. The clarinet started playing and as though it was the sign he was longing for, Blaine sighed in relief. What a pleasure, listening to the subtle instruments, the sweet melody and that soft trace of age in the background, resembling delicate drops of rain. Sidney Bechet wasn't his favorite, but he had to admit, _Blue Horizon_ was one of his favorite songs. Blaine captured all the different sounds, really concentrated, really listening to the music: the underrated drums, the trombone, the piano –lovely as always-, the precious string bass and that trumpet that also drove Blaine insane. He calmly went back to the kitchen and the burnt smell in the air also drew his attention. Now that he thought about it, he shouldn't have left the bread toasting for that long. He threw the carbonized slices out and put the eggs back in the refrigerator, he wasn't even that hungry so he just settled for the coffee.

"No big breakfast," he whispered, grabbing his drink and sitting at the table, against the window that let him see the small back garden "but at least I have my music," he smiled as he took a sip.

* * *

><p>Later on, Blaine realized that listening to that vinyl record was the only way of keeping his hair on, and nothing bad could happen to him if he was just lying on the floor while doing so.<p>

He still had to come to terms with his own mind; he had narrowed it down to piano and trumpet. But he still wasn't sure which one he preferred, not to play them himself, because he did play piano, but just to listen to. They both emitted the notes in such a beautiful and gratifying manner it was impossible to pick one. Also, Louis Armstrong –he had changed the disc- was both a great composer and trumpet player.

He heard the knock on the door and frowned from the wooden floor; David and Nick weren't expected until eleven. Anyway he got up and walked up to the door and when he opened he couldn't say he was really surprised to see his parents standing there, with their suitcases. Who he was surprised to see were Nick and David indeed, carrying another bag.

"Blaine, dear!" his mother exclaimed, throwing herself at him "It's so good to see you!"

"Mom, it's only been three days," he laughed, returning the hug. His father stood right there, beside them and with a wide smile he caught his young man in his arms too, with his coat hanging from his other arm.

"Good to see you, son," he repeated, his mouth touching Blaine's hair. And right there, in the middle of that embrace, he finally felt at home, complete.

He knew he had the best father; he loved him so much it was just hard for him to imagine life without him. He was hard-working, professional, handsome, very clever, elegant, liked by every person he had ever met. Simple as that; and Blaine admired him so much. He really did. Besides, he had always been caring about his son, never aloof. He clearly remembered one particular night back in New York, at their old house. He recalled being covered in sweat and shaking about a silly nightmare he had just woken up from and being held in his father's strong and firm grip. Still, there was something so tender about it. Blaine perceived how his hero was really trying to protect him, even if it was from the ugly, nonexistent ideas in his own head.

"Same goes to you, dad," he whispered into Walter's chest. When they finally finished the hug they held the mutual stare for a minute, full of affection "How was the trip?" he asked, moving from the threshold so that the four of them could step in.

"Oh, it was long, but comfortable. The train is lovely," Linda Anderson said with a gentle smile, taking the grey gloves off. She was also classy and delicate, the same way her husband was "The place looks so amiable too, don't you think so, Walter?" turning to her man.

"It sure does, darling," he answered, returning the gesture.

"What are _you_ guys doing here?" Blaine asked his friends in a more colloquial tone, patting their shoulders.

"Well, funny story actually," David replied, with a grin in that affable face of his.

"Do you know you look exactly like your father?" Nick interfered, with an exact same copy of David's smirk "You're even the same height and all," he walked in as he raised his voice a bit, calling for Walter, who was in the kitchen "Mr. Anderson, where shall I put this bag?"

"Oh, anywhere is fine, boy. Thank you," Blaine really couldn't help but basking in everything his father did, in such a formal yet friendly way. His lips just curled up in a smile and his eyes would glimmer.

"He's such a hero for you," David's voice sounded to his side.

"Okay, how do you even do that?" Blaine opened his mouth.

"You can just see it in your eyes," he laughed. It was so easy for him to realize whenever Blaine was lying or just… not saying something. It was like he was reading his mind at all times.

"Whatever," he snickered too when Nick came back from the kitchen "Why are you here, again?" he insisted to both.

"When we saw your father on the street we thought he was you and we started shouting your name," the taller one explained.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't your name we were shouting exactly," Nick giggled "Remember the nickname we gave you the other day?"

"What, _honey-bear_?" he said with a disgusted expression.

"Yeah, that exact one," Nick answered.

"That sucks. It's honestly the worst nickname ever. It doesn't even make any sense," he complained. He didn't even know where they had gotten it from.

"Whatever, it's funny and ridiculous. But yeah, you're right; we'll come up with a better one," his same friend agreed. The three of them smiled and Blaine turned to his father who was moving towards them again with an arm around his wife.

"So, Blaine, I take it these two young men are your friends?" he questioned, eyeing them in a welcoming way.

"Yes, dad; David Thompson and Nick Duval," he clarified.

"Yes, they've introduced themselves already," he nodded once more "Are you doing something today then, boys?"

"Yes, sir, we showed Blaine the town these last couple of days," David affirmed.

"Yes, we took him for a little ride around," Nick kept on joking and Blaine laughed under his breath.

"So," the other one tried to continue, glaring at how his friend could never be serious "we were thinking of going to the diner on James' and Pointstrat Avenue. It's kind of our place."

"Yeah; _Jim's,_" Nick spelled out. The one that had been talking till that moment closed his eyes once more.

"Well then, I'm glad you ran into these boys then, Blaine. They look alright," Walter approved, ignoring Nick's informal behavior, with Linda's delicate hand in his chest. Blaine looked at his father as in thanking him and then placed his eyes on his mother's face. She was smiling too, so proud of his only child.

He had a hell of a family, he really did.

"Very well, son, you better go," he added, encouraging them to leave "It's alright, we'll unpack and we'll have dinner ready for when you come back."

"Oh, fine then. Thank you, dad. Bye, mom," he said and turn around, smiling at them.

"Bye Mr. and Mrs. Anderson," David –and Nick too, thankfully- simply waved.

"See you later, boys," Blaine's dad saluted for the last time, before the three of them walked off the door and into the street.

The shortest of them noted how hot the day was. At least there was a cool waft going around, but the sun was hitting hard on Lima.

"You are physically incapable of taking things seriously, aren't you?" David remarked to his friend. Not in an offensive way, but just not being able to process it.

"What?" Nick gaped innocently "I wasn't even being disrespectful!" he contradicted in a high pitched voice.

"Well, you weren't being very respectful either," the other boy pointed out.

"Are you kidding me, Dave?" he called him out.

"No," Nick's mouth was still open, stunned.

"Blaine, was your father bothered by my behavior? I mean… Was I honestly being rude to your dad?" he sought for support.

"No, guys, relax. He might be kind of intimidating, but that's just because he's so… dapper. But as long as you're not a jerk or distinctively insolent nothing will happen," he mollified them. The two of them looked serious as they kept on walking. After a few moments David and Nick looked at each other, with slightly mischievous smiles on their faces. They turned both their heads towards Blaine, who was still oblivious and thinking about how the day had probably been misled onto a better road. When he led his gaze to his friends just for a second he caught sight of this, instantaneously switching his inner-defensive-mode on.

"What?" he asked, suspicion in his eyes.

"Dapper," David merely shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets and staring at the concrete as they marched.

"You're pretty dapper yourself too, Blaine," Nick kept on smiling, eyes fixed on him.

"What?" he repeated, truly confused.

"You just wait a while and we'll come up with your new nickname. That was just a preview," he explained.

"God … Don't you have anyone else to make stupid nicknames up for?" he groaned, tilting his head back.

"Nope," David meddled "There's another dance tomorrow, are you coming?" he changed subjects. Nick did a double take, looking expectantly at Blaine, full of hope.

"I don't know," he muttered once more. He had promised to himself though that he'd go to one, one of these days. He couldn't keep on avoiding them and it wasn't that he didn't want to; he just wasn't sure of how those things were there in Lima. Not very different from the ones in New York, probably, but who knew.

"We might call you _dapper nun_, like it, Anderson?" Nick snapped, being overdramatic as always. Blaine laughed in defeat while David cachinnated and the other one gloated over his witty retort.

"Look, I have an idea. I'll go to tomorrow's night dance if you guys don't ever feel the desperate need to give me a nickname," he offered, raising his eyebrows "what do you say?"

Nick and David looked at each other. The first one seemed to be having a big trouble restraining himself from smiling and jumping over Blaine to hug him. The second one just shrugged.

"Yes! You got yourself a deal, boy!" he accepted happily shaking Blaine's hand, who laughed healthily once more "Oh my god, I'm just so excited," he said in a really cheerful tone.

"God, what have I done?" Blaine muttered to David, who chuckled.

"When he's excited he looks like a freaking animal. It's amazing how he can go from jackass to... Well… This," he said and they both glanced at Nick, who looked so energetic and ecstatic all of the sudden.

"We'll have to get you a girl, boy!" he practically yelled in their ears, grabbing Blaine by the shoulders, making the few people walking down the street turn around to stare at them.

"Will you just… lower your voice, please?" Blaine asked, reddening to his ears, trying to hide his face in his own chest as he could.

"Whatever," he waved it away "Come on, Blaine! You need a good girl" he tried to convince him. Going to a party was one thing, but consenting Nick to get him a date… A _female _date… That was something else, something he didn't know he was ready for. Still… His head was going full speed, trying to come up with something to say. He had gone over that a few days ago, but now he had to get it out. Was he _that_ or wasn't he? He still felt kind of embarrassed about considering it. Perhaps if he would have had some experience he might've known better.

"So? What do _you_ say?" Nick persevered, looking quite eager about it. Blaine didn't look at David because he knew that if he did, he would know there was something he wasn't saying. And he was sure his psychic friend wouldn't have said anything, but he didn't want to give him a reason to worry or whatsoever, so at the risk of taking the wrong choice…

"Okay," he agreed. _"More like giving in, it's more like it,"_ he thought, not liking himself for agreeing to something he didn't really want to do.

"Yeah!" he cheered and Blaine dedicated a phony smile at him, not being able to evade David's gaze, just behind Nick's. He really felt as though he was staring right into his soul for real "Okay, let's see… Oh, I know! Do you like blondes?" the boy with hazel eyes blushed and bit his lip, giggling and scratching the back of his head. David closed his eyes and shook his own. His friend was, without a doubt, the most oblivious person in the face of the planet "Brunettes?"

* * *

><p><em>Music featured in this Chapter:<em>

Blue Horizon - Sidney Bechet

Lots of Louis Armstrong, no song in particular

_Listening to Darren's _Singing In The Rain _cover. Are you serious? How are you even real? What a bitch._

_So, I wrote this in four hours. It's 4 am but I felt inspired and I wanted to do this, so here you go. I won't be updating so soon in the future, mind you. I'm the most clueless person ever, really._

_But anyway, I have lots of material to work with and all those awesome reviews and the hits and visitors (like 400 guys, you're amazing) made my day and I just spent it jumping around._

_Just wish me luck with school and my exam on Monday and it'll be alright._

_Love you all, hope you like it :)_

_PS: If you want to talk to me or anything, here or on Tumblr or whatever, you're more than welcome. Don't be afraid. I don't bite :)_

_Adieu 3_

[RVWD]


	4. Nice Piece Of Bliss

They had agreed to meet at Jim's at lunch time and so, when he arrived, Nick and Blaine were already there, sitting at their usual booth. The jukebox was blasting a catchy tune, which David danced jokingly to while walking up to them.  
>"I like this song, who's this?" he asked, sitting down.<br>"I don't know, Elvis something," Nick answered quickly, before turning to his other friend.  
>"The guy's got a voice" David muttered, stretching his arms.<br>"Yeah," he waved away again, "What do you mean, you have nothing to wear?" He continued, tone somewhere between sarcastic and serious.  
>"I don't know it's just that… I like clothes and that" he started but regretted the moment he said it. Was it okay to be fond of fashion? However, he couldn't track any kind of rejection in their faces, so he just went on "But what is one supposed to wear at these types of… things?" he stuttered tensely.<br>"Anything, Blaine, don't worry, you'll look just fine. Besides, girls will look more at your hairdo than at your clothes," his friend with clear eyes assured him, in a slightly mocking tone.  
>"Huh… Okay." Why was he so nervous about that? It was just a dance, and he had been to dances before. Maybe it was the fact that he had Nick's pressure on him about hooking up with a girl. He had thought about it and it shouldn't have to be that terrible or anything, but still he had a hunch that things wouldn't go entirely right.<br>"Aren't you from New York, anyway?" he snapped him out of his thoughts. "Like… didn't you guys have parties there?" Blaine hesitated for a second before replying.  
>"Yeah, but…" he mumbled yet again, "I don't know, Nick," he vaguely sighed in the end. He couldn't fully understand himself, how was he even going to explain to another person where his head was?<br>"Ok, no pressure, it's fine." Blaine stifled a snort inside his head.  
>"Anyway, what are you guys having for lunch?" David drew attention to himself after a moment.<br>"Cheeseburger," Nick said decidedly, with a childish expression. "You have to try them Blaine; they're the most delicious thing you'll ever eat in your entire life. Really."  
>"Okay then, I'll have one of those," he laughed cheerfully. David made a gesture to the waitress, who approached a minute later with kind eyes.<br>"Nice to see you again guys, what can I get you today?" she asked, smiling at them.  
>"Same goes to you, Amy," Nick greeted in a non-flirty, polite way.<br>"Nick and Blaine will have two cheeseburgers and I'll just have a Coke, Amy, thank you."  
>"Right away," she jotted down the order and left without glancing again.<br>"Talking about tonight again, we can help you if you want to," David proposed, raising his eyebrows.  
>"Come on, what are we, girls?" his friend snorted and Blaine felt something jolt somewhere inside him.<br>"No, not girls, Nick; we won't suddenly grow boobs for gathering to help Blaine decide what to wear," the other snapped, leaning in. "Stop being such an idiot."  
>"Whoa, whoa, why so mean?" he asked, frowning.<br>"I'm sorry, it's just that you always freak out so much," Blaine had his eyes wide open, surprised. He had a suspicion already that David was much more tolerant than Nick, but him standing his ground –and, in some way, sticking up for Blaine himself - like that was quite of a shock. "You know, when something you consider 'girly' comes up." He finally sighed, trying to calm down.  
>"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he apologized. "I won't do it again if it bothers you that much," he promised. In that very moment, a different waiter brought the order to their booth and left to the kitchen again.<br>"Well, yes," he replied, still a bit coolly, "Sorry." his low voice made Nick smile.  
>"It's fine, you were right though, so… Anyway, let's just change the subject, please, I think Blaine's about to cry."<br>"I'm barely listening, this hamburger is so goddamn good," he mumbled with his mouth full.  
>"Yeah, you got cheese in your hair, man," Nick told him, staring, confused, at his curls.<br>"How…" the other mouthed, meanwhile Blaine led his hand to his head and put the chunk of cheese on his mouth.  
>"Thanks" he said obliviously with an innocent smile and he kept on eating.<br>His friend beside him opened his amused eyes widely and asked "So after this, we're heading to your place?"  
>"He's eating, do you really think he'll answer?"<br>"He doesn't even look at me," Nick whined.  
>"You don't even need to get him a chick; he'll go with some food and he'll have a better time."<br>"You may rely on it," Blaine said, eyes still on his new love. The other rolled his eyes and David just laughed out loud.

* * *

><p>"That looks… great, dude," David expressed hesitantly when Blaine walked in his room from the bathroom with tight and light blue jeans, his beloved red suspenders and a faint wheat-colored shirt. Nick, who was splattered all over Blaine's bed mumbling about how comfortable it was got up and blurted out a vague, "Nice".<br>"You really do know how to work it," David joked and Blaine laughed out loud.  
>"People often tell me I have a way with clothes, I don't know," he excused himself shyly, still pondering over his outfit.<br>"Yeah… what do your parents do, again?" he asked from the chair he was sitting on.  
>"My dad is the director of a quite large law firm and my mother is one of the editors in charge of the articles; she works at Vogue."<br>"Really?" David whistled.  
>"Whoa, man, that's huge," Nick sat up, perplexed.<br>"Yeah, she loves it. They both work really hard, so they deserve every good thing that happens to them," he said, smiling.  
>"God, you're so proud of them it hurts," David repeated with an amazed look on his face. Blaine gave him a small smile and shrugged as Nick got down of his bunk bed and stood next to his friends.<br>"Are you ready, kiddo?" Nick asked, now with a huge, enthusiastic smile on his face, all hint of sleepiness gone. Blaine glanced at the reflections behind him in the mirror and then looked into his own eyes, searching for the courage to do it. There was nothing to be afraid of, really. So why all the fuss? he said internally.  
>"Yeah" he stated as convincing as possible and smiled back at Nick and David, who beamed again.<p>

* * *

><p>They walked to the dance hall, chatting and joking like always. Of course, the one who was the most excited was, by far, Nick. His face and eyes were freeing all the ecstasy he had been accumulating inside ever since he got Blaine a date for the dance. Her name was Rebecca and according to him, she was "a nice, good piece of bliss".<br>"Weirdest expression I have ever heard, man," David mouthed overcome, rolling his eyes.  
>"What? I do have a girlfriend so it's not like Rebecca is my bliss. She will be Blaine's, here," he answered and patted his back.<br>"Okay then… Are you sure it will work? I mean-"  
>"Blaine, it is all set up already. Don't worry, we gotcha covered," he affirmed.<br>But he still wasn't quite confident about it. How would this girl even greet him knowing that they were supposed to wrap the night up kissing or something? He would've asked but he could imagine Nick's typical reply, "She'll welcome you nice enough, alright," and then an impish wink.  
>The night was clear and the moon looked bright and huge stamped on the sky, throwing light all throughout the streets of Lima. As their smiles grew wider –except for Blaine's, whose stomach was doing nothing but clenching- they could listen to the racket in the place, the loud music and the other teenagers and couples getting off their cars and going in.<br>"Here we are, guys," he sighed as though he had never been there.  
>"What is it that you love so much about these dances?" Blaine asked as they went closer.<br>"Are you serious? The music's good, the girls are awesome. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm in love with Holly but we both dance with other people," he explained, more and more thrilled by the minute.  
>"And doesn't she come to these dances?" he insisted.<br>"She's from Findlay; it's only forty minutes away, so we meet every couple of days but we get to do lots of things separate ways," he shrugged. Blaine raised an eyebrow. How did that work? Living in different towns –quite near, that was true, but apart nonetheless-, dancing with other people and… in love? Perhaps that was, and he felt guilty for thinking that way, the reason they had been together for a year. After all, Nick really didn't seem to be the kind of guy who could be in love with a girl that long. "What about Angela, Dave?" he reiterated.  
>"Angela doesn't like these kind of parties. Besides, her parents are kind of religious so they're not glad with them either. They're not too glad with me either, but it could be worse, at least they respect our relationship," he told him, reaching the door already. "Anyway… are you ready?" he asked, not helping Blaine. His tone and Nick's face were making him more nervous; it felt like they were taking him to an initiation ritual or something like that and his stomach was flipping up and down nonstop. However, his nod was the signal for Nick to open the dark red and heavy door.<br>The music was louder than it seemed from the outside and the voices from all the teenagers whispering, singing, talking and shouting in the most thrilled, entertained way resonated in the entire place. Nothing too impressive, there were no windows and the decoration was limited to garlands and the shimmering ball hanging from the light blue ceiling. There wasn't a specified dance floor so there were people dancing everywhere, but most of the couples were concentrated in the middle of the dance hall, even though it was large enough for people to be much more scattered. At the other end, far away from the door there was a small and low stage were a group of good looking fellas were playing the instruments, and the lead was singing.  
>"Daniel, wait for me!" a girl snickered and snapped Blaine out of his thoughts.<br>"So, what do you think?" David asked, surveying his face.  
>"Where did all these people come from?" was the first thing he could think of, so many people in such a small town. Both of his friends let out a burst of laughter.<br>"Okay, here's how it'll go. We'll do our own thing and in an hour or so I'll lead you to Rebecca, how does that sound?" he plotted, rubbing his hands together.  
>"Sure" he gulped, trying to remain calm. Nick disappeared between the people the next second and Blaine automatically tugged at David's sleeve.<br>"What's wrong?" he laughed, shaking his head. "You're terrified, Blaine."  
>"I'm not… Yes," he admitted right away. He couldn't neither suppress nor cloak his anxiousness.<br>"Why?"  
>"I don't know… I mean, what am I supposed to do here? Dance with people I don't know, with you? I just don't fe—" he shut his mouth and looked awry. He shouldn't be saying that.<br>"You don't feel what?"  
>"Never mind, I'm sorry, let's go" he tried to detune the conversation, starting to walk away and failing terribly.<br>"Yeah, sure, ha ha," David grabbed him by the shoulder softly and placed him on the spot where he was just a second ago "Nice try. What, do you want to leave?" he asked, without any disappointment or whatsoever, which Blaine was truly grateful for.  
>"No, it's not that…" it actually was that.<br>"Look, you don't feel comfortable, you don't like it; I know, the same happened to me when these started to happen every two days and Nick practically forced me to come to all of them, but just let loose and I swear you'll enjoy it," he told his friend, who looked like a scared little child. "Just have fun with us and dance with me if you want to," he continued. Blaine shifted a little and bobbed his head softly. "Listen, I don't enjoy these much either. If it weren't for his excessive enthusiastic Lassie-like attitude, he honestly is like a freaking puppy sometimes…" he joked and Blaine cracked a smile. "We can leave early if you want to," he offered way too kindly, laying a hand on his shoulder again.  
>"No, you're right. We are here to have fun, besides… Nick was really happy about this," he said and David smiled, still not showing any kind of satisfaction nor relief, which made his resigned friend much better. At that very moment, his other friend popped his head out of the bundle of people and without any self control started yelling at them with joy, "Come on, what are you waiting for?" and vanished again.<br>David bit his lip to keep from laughing and led his eyes to Blaine, who looked slightly consternated.  
>"I'm not going to let him get to me," he stated firmly and widened his eyes at David as he chuckled again and they both dived in the heated and tight hodgepodge of teens.<p>

* * *

><p>Surprisingly, Blaine ended up hitting it off with most of the people and David and Nick discovered that he was a terrific dancer and, in fact, very sociable when he wanted to. Not that he was shy with them, but after all the suffering and rejection towards parties they just hadn't seen that coming from him.<p>

_Hey baby, I ain't askin' much of you  
><em>_No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, baby,  
><em>_I ain't askin' much of you,  
><em>_Just a big-a big-a hunk o' love will do_

As Elvis' tune started, people went nuts. After hours of non-stop dancing, the apparent star of the party decided to get some rest, walking towards David and Nick who were chatting with drinks in their hands next to the long, white table full of punch, some food and a couple more of decorations.

"How do they not run out of energy?" he said, when he got to them with a blinding smile on his face.  
>"Funny, we were just asking ourselves the same thing about you" Nick joked, although he couldn't look happier about the fact that Blaine was having such a good time.<br>"A girl just called you 'cutie-pie in suspenders', Anderson. I think you got yourself a couple of groupies out of this," David threw in, taking a sip of his beverage. He couldn't think of anything to answer so he just chuckled and grabbed a glass for himself.  
>"Oh, there she is, Rebecca! Over here," Nick called. "Becca, this is Blaine," he introduced. Blaine turned around to find a girl who was indeed a nice piece of bliss, like Nick had foreseen. Her brunette ponytail reached her exposed shoulders and her floral dress was tighter than what he had hoped for and far more revealing than what he felt comfortable with. Her face, on the other hand, was precious but it still distilled innocence –which went against what Nick had told him- and her light green eyes were spectacular, but still missed something. Intercepting his thoughts, she held out a hand for Blaine to shake. When he did so, he couldn't overlook her provocative grin.<br>"Nice to meet you, Blaine," she said in a sultry voice which, even if it didn't sound forced, was too much for him. He had to repress a fleeting impulse to glance at David in complicity; he had to share his thoughts with somebody.  
>"Nice to meet you, too."<br>"So, do you want to dance?" she asked in the same enticing way, raising an eyebrow and giving his suspenders a tug, to which Blaine raised his too.  
>"Sure" he answered calmly as she walked away, his clothing sliding through her fingers for a second. The three of them stared for a moment before throwing a fit of laughter.<br>"Dear god, who the hell is that, Nick?" David asked, making Blaine cackle even harder.  
>"Will it be like this all night or is she actually going to talk at some point?" he joked again and they both burst again.<br>"I don't know, Ben Millgood told me about her and she seemed nice" he explained.  
>"Wait, so Millgood came up with the piece of bliss thing?" he stopped him.<br>"Wha- Drop it, Dave, what difference does it make?"  
>"That it made me lose a bit of the respect I had for you," Blaine couldn't stop laughing. Finally, when he was able to get a grip of himself, he run a hand down his face and sighed: "I can't do this, Nick."<br>"Yes, you can" his friend asserted.  
>"It's just… it's ridiculous. I'll be trying not to laugh the whole time; it's too much for me. I can't handle it," he declared, shaking his head with a smile and swilling; he just now realized how dry his throat was.<br>"Come on, man, she's not that bad."  
>"Yeah, after all she's a nice piece of bliss," a mutter was heard.<br>"For God's sake, David, lay off," he cried. Blaine chuckled softly once more. "Come on, please? Just… check it out, if you don't like how it goes you leave, really," he suggested.  
>"Fine" he agreed. He was too tired to even put up resistance so instead of saying anything else, he put the plastic cup on the table and turned around. Nick and David stood alone once more in silence, eyes fixed and lost where Blaine had just been.<br>"You're going to ask me if it was Millgood, aren't you?" he asked after a moment of silence.  
>"It's too stupid!" David explained and then pleaded "I just don't get it!"<br>Nick rolled his eyes and left.

* * *

><p>"So, Nick tells me you're new in town, Blaine, is that true?"<br>The only reason Blaine didn't even feel like laughing was because he was too busy being preoccupied. Not only the music –a slow love song- was a little suggestive, but also the way they were dancing and the way she had been looking at him the whole night.

_Are there lilac trees in the heart of town?_  
><em>Can you hear a lark in any other part of town? <em>  
><em>Does enchantment pour out of every door?<em>  
><em> No, it's just on the street where you live<em>

Her hands were on the nape of his neck, "casually" curling his hair and from time to time she got closer to him. She was a charmer alright, but he was starting to have a really strong, bad feeling about it.

_And oh, the towering feeling just to know somehow you are near,_  
><em>The overpowering feeling that any second you may suddenly appear.<br>_  
>"Oh, great. Sure, this song won't mislead her," he snorted in his thoughts. "Yeah, yeah, I'm from New York actually," were his hands okay there? Should he place them lower? Should he hold her farther? Yeah, that should do it. He tried to drift apart from her a bit, but somehow in the middle of that, she only got closer to him. "How?" he mouthed to himself.<br>"That's nice, I've been to New York a couple of times, but believe me, guys here are much better" she said confidentially, speaking close to his ear. He doubted it was because of how near she was, but when she said that he could feel his heart skipping a beat. However, how did that make any sense? Was she trying to tell him that now that he lived in Lima he was better or that guys there were better than him? This girl seriously had some logic issues. Anyway, he decided to go for a faint laughter but then heard himself and how cold it had sounded.  
>"Sorry, I'm kind of tired," he apologized, realizing how tired he really was. He thought of his bed for a moment and felt completely disarmed.<br>"Hmm, you've been dancing all night, haven't you?" she pouted, fingering his collar. Apparently, swallowing was a bad decision, since it made Rebecca think that she was making him nervous. In fact, she was, but not in that good way, and when Blaine sensed her closeness again, his heart accelerated "Do you want to go home?" she asked, lips tracing the words up and down his neck. A few feet away from them Nick and David where dancing with two other girls and it seemed that Blaine's face was hilarious, cause they both had placed the girl's faces in their shoulders. He would've laughed too if he hadn't been so frightened. He asked for help in silence as Rebecca kept on planting annoying, tickling kisses and his friends shook laughing harder by the minute.  
>"<em>Go home with her<em>" Nick formed.  
>"My parents are home," he yelled soundlessly scandalized over the idea. Nick rolled his eyes.<br>"_Not yours idiot, hers. Her place_," he said. Blaine squeezed his lips and considerate it. He really didn't want to go home with this girl, but how was he supposed to say no? And also, what would David and Nick say? What if they suspected or something? He had no idea how they would react and he wasn't willing to lose them over something that stupid.  
>"Your…" he choked "Your place?" why in God's name did his voice sound so rough? She nodded with his head stroking his shoulder.<br>"Yeah, is that okay?" she asked, same seductive tone.  
>"Yeah, sure," how didn't she realize he was lying, he had no idea.<br>"Then let's go," she said as she pulled apart from him, looking into his eyes through her eyelashes. It all looked so shallow, like a big, fake number. She obviously wasn't feeling the passion she was showing and for a moment, it made Blaine ask himself if it wasn't an enormous prank set up by Nick but he ruled that out right away. She took his hand and pulled of it, taking him outside, without giving him any time to glance at his friends.  
>When they stepped out, the summer air hit Blaine flat in the face and the moon was still up there, igniting the night even more than before.<br>They walked hurriedly two blocks, giggling all the way –only her actually, since the boy was rather confused- to Rebecca's place. When they got there, she opened the door quickly and took Blaine by the shirt collar one more time, pressing him against the wall. The brunette practically threw herself at his neck, nibbling and kissing, but Blaine really felt nothing. Nothing but panic; first of all, did that mean anything? The fact that he could've just as well been reading the newspaper while doing that confirmed his suspects? He really didn't like… girls? And also, she seemed too desperate and when her lips found his, he, aghast, knocked his head against the wooden wall. He knew, he was expecting that and he tried to kiss her back but he was being lousy at it. Rebecca's hands were both messing with his hair and wandering up and down his left arm, while his hands were on the wall, as though looking for support to remain on his feet. He went with the flow for a couple of minutes, still not feeling a thing, that was until she directed her hands to his shirt buttons and he noticed that his suspenders had already been taken off.  
>He breathed roughly for a second and squeezed more against the wall. "Stop," he whispered short of breath.<br>"What?" she uttered.  
>"I'm sorry, it's just that…" he tried to focus.<br>"What's wrong?" she pushed.  
>"Nothing… I mean, yeah, I, huh…" he kept on stuttering, "I can't do this. I'm so, so sorry"<br>"What do you mean, you can't do this?" she asked, seemingly annoyed. Not that he could blame her, but Blaine liked this girl less and less as minutes passed.  
>"I just… I can't. I'm sorry but I have to leave," he claimed as he slipped away, escaping her bored yet confused eyes.<br>"Whatever, good night," she said and left for the room next to that one. Blaine frowned and walked out.  
>Well that was great. What was he supposed to say to David and Nick the next day? "I left because I couldn't sleep with a girl," that wouldn't be weird at all.<br>"Way to go, Blaine" he groaned to himself half conscious walking the three blocks to his own house. What he liked the most about Lima was the fact that everything was so close, especially those particular situations when he was so tired. In New York he couldn't even dream of doing that. When he recognized the door, a lazy smile spread and he was pretty sure that as he unlocked the door he began to doze off. He dragged his feet all the way up to his bedroom, threw the keys over at his desk, damned the fact that he had to climb the four-stair ladder and slumped against it, making his pillow deflate and finally closing his eyes.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, so I have tons of tests and things to do this week so this will be the only time I'm updating for a while guys, I'm sorry. Besides, I'm having inspiration problems but I bought<em> Bridges Of Madison County_ (that's supposed to happen around the fifties too or something like that) and listening to music of the era too so I can write as nicely as possible._

_Songs in this Chapter:_

A Big Hunk O' Love - Elvis Presley

On The Street Where You Live - Vic Damone_ (not my favorite, I have to admit)_

_Please, if you could review, it would mean a lot to me cause it inspires me to write and also, it lets me know what to correct and that, but as you wish._

_I might reread it some other day cause you know when you're looking too deep into something it stops making sense and it's not until you refresh your head a bit that you realize when something's weird._

_So, I'm off to bed cause I've never been sleepier in my life. 4.38 am here :)_

__Anyway, hope you like it and lots of love for all of you 3__


	5. Keeps Getting Better N' Better

He opened his eyes, that worried and familiar jolt in his stomach already there. It was always there, really, as in "every morning". Even though he couldn't distinguish much from the hazy pictures of the night before, he sensed in the air that that wasn't his bed.

Next to him, Allie McHover was still deeply asleep, her brown hair all over the pillows and her arm reaching out in his direction. Already acquainted with the frivolous situation, he brushed the floor with his delicate and long fingers when picking the shirt off the floor and left through the bedroom door. After looking around quickly –expecting someone to pop out of the blue- and finding the place empty, he walked nonchalantly out the door.

The fresh wind caressed his cheeks and his light brown hair, sweeping the incipient fogginess off his eyes. Damn, had he gotten little sleep last night? Not to say none at all. And, b_oy_, was that girl clingy? Was he supposed to start dating his conquests now? No, girls in Lima, Ohio knew that Kurt Hummel was not cut out for that. Most of the girls didn't care, and the ones that did and thought –at first- he was a jerk, ended up literally wooed by his charms, not being able to resist him. Everyone had clear already that he was a strange guy; he was loved, worshiped, respected and envied. He was not only a womanizer, but a great and pretty easy going person. Weird mix indeed but it certainly did work for him and everyone around him. As these very thoughts filled his mind, he couldn't hold back the smile that was growing on his face. He had easy, repetitive and enjoyable times and as long as that side of his happiness was taken care of, nothing or nobody was to ruin it for him.

* * *

><p>Next morning as soon as he woke up, Blaine stayed there, lying on his bed, eyes fixed on the white ceiling, thinking. He knew right away that he had to deal with Nick and David and tell them how last night had ended. He actually was considering telling them the truth, what else would he say to them? Of course, the truth didn't imply letting them know he was… well, <em>that<em>. Just that he didn't like Rebecca, that he was looking for something else. That ought to do it.

After getting off his bed and down the small, wooden ladder, he landed on the floor lazily and walked to the bathroom. The water started running as he stared at his own reflection. His hazel eyes glimmered and his mouth felt dry and so did his throat. Luckily, he wasn't as nervous as he thought he would be, having to lie that way. While showering, his head cleared up a bit, as it happened every time he stepped into the steamy water, letting it slide down his body, bouncing off his skin and untangling both his muscles and thoughts.

Now with renewed energies, he ran down the stairs to the kitchen where his parents were sitting, next to two young fellas.

"So, are you going to be here every time I see my parents?" Blaine asked, recognizing the back of the heads.

"Funny story," Nick said, recalling the past and similar conversation as Linda smiled, greeting his son.

"Good morning, sweetie," and sweetly placed a kiss on top of Blaine's head.

"Good day, son," Walter beamed too and spread his newspaper. The dark haired boy sat down in front of his friends.

"Seriously, do you live here?" he joked, spreading cheese on a toast.

"No, Einstein," the same talked again.

"You know how the last job we got was at Akron? We told you the first time we met," David interjected "and that we work in construction. Well, today we ran into your father again who was looking for a place to get the newspaper. We helped him" he shrugged and eyed Blaine, trying to make him understand that there was something else he would be letting him know later.

"Yeah, and he offered us a job helping in the renewal of Anderson & Tinkerson Law Firm offices, isn't that great?" Nick spoke. David rolled his eyes.

"How, how are you so thick?" he whispered, swirling his coffee with a silver spoon.

"What?" the other asked with wide eyes. Dave shook his head at the time Mr. Anderson stood up with a small smile.

"Linda and I should get going, boys, but we'll see you later," he said with polite eyes while Linda kissed his son goodbye and waved the other kids with a nicer expression than her husband "take care of yourselves, alright? And Blaine," he called, making the boy take his hazel eyes off the jar of raspberry jam "if you're leaving or something, leave a note so we know what you're doing."

"Okay, dad" he agreed.

"So…" David started as soon as they heard the door shut.

"What?"

"'What', he says. Come on, Anderson, you're not really dumb. You're just _playing _dumb," Nick stepped in.

"What did you guys do when you get to her place?" his other friend added. And thus, the expected yet unwanted anxiousness began.

"Huh… We… we just ki-you know, _kissed,_" he lowered his voice, as though it was a big, ugly secret he was embarrassed of.

"Aha, aha, and then?" Nick pushed eagerly. Something in his eyes screamed that he had taken for granted Blaine and Rebecca had slept together last evening. David, on the other hand, looked expectant and intrigued.

"Not much happened after that, you know?" he said simply, trying to shrug the pressure away. Their faces fell and their expressions turned into confused question marks, everywhere.

"What do you mean?" Nick asked a bit too harshly.

"Nick! Don't be an ass," David grimaced at him and turned back to his other friend "Did you… you know, sleep with her?"

"Well, we did stuff, I mean…" he started. The anxiety was getting to him and he could feel his heart racing "I left after I had my fun," he stated, hoping he didn't have to lie anymore. After a second, David's confusion turned into a fun smile and Nick's slight frown into relief. Okay, that was easier than expected. Little white lies seemed to work out just fine. "_It's fine, I'm lying by omission,"_he convinced himself "_I said nothing, they made their math."_ Although the tension left his chest, a small amount of guilt had replaced it, but Blaine was sure it would leave fast enough. It wasn't like he had done anything wrong. Really.

"So," he started, trying to mislead the conversation and dissipate the leftover risk, just in case "what are we doing today?"

"Actually, we can't do anything. We have a job offer," David said.

"Oh, but I thought my dad had offered you guys something,"

"It's a one day thing, this," Nick clarified, it seemed as though he had forgotten already all about Rebecca "It seems as though some jerk knocked down a column or something down at the municipality."

"With a truck," David articulated. Blaine snorted and nodded in understanding.

"Oh, okay then. I guess I'll just, huh… I don't know, I'll catch up with you guys later," he shrugged off.

"Sure, and what are you doing until tonight?"

"There's a party, by the way" his other friend cut in.

"Again?" Blaine moaned more worried than surprised. He had had a really good time last night, but what if he bumped into Rebecca. Would she say anything? "Will… Will Rebecca be there?" he tried to ask as casually as possible.

"Yeah, but if you slept with her and left without a word I'll doubt she'll talk to you," Nick snorted bubbly, as he drank some more coffee. So they had bought it. Thankfully, relief crushed guilt in his mind once more.

"Yeah, Blaine, make sure you don't do it the next time. You don't want to have a line of angry, resented girls behind you," David laughed and exchanged glances with Nick "try not to be the next Hummel," they commented as a private joke, which Blaine didn't even ask about. He tapped his watch and nudged his friend as he got up "We better get going," his other friend stood up and they started walking down the short entry, Blaine walking behind them. He leaned against the white wooden doorsill putting one hands in his pocket and caressing his elbow with the other.

"Hey, do you like to read?" David turned around and pointed him as Nick put his jacket on.

"Yes, of course," after music and movies, reading was one of his favorite activities. The way he could imagine a whole new place, people and the expressions on their faces, even scents and flavors was just fantastic. He was able to travel to another place without having to move.

"There's a library at Pointstrat Avenue and Blue Street, just in the corner," he suggested "lots of books, cozy place."

"Oh, yeah, that place's got some nice chairs to sit on, man," Nick recalled from behind, slapping David's arm. He stared at him for a moment and then faced Blaine again.

"Anyway," he raised his eyebrows "you can go and read for as long as you want to. I don't think you can borrow the books though."

"Gee, thanks David, okay, yeah, I'll totally check it out," he thanked profusely with a huge smile.

"You're welcome," he laughed openly in response "we'll be here by six though, is that alright?"

"Sure, that's… perfect," his friends left with a happy wave of their hands and Blaine sensed that it would be a great day. Despite how small the town was, he hadn't seen the library yet and he was truly excited about it. He glanced around and snatched a notepad from one of the drawers in his way back to the kitchen, slammed it on the table with far too much enthusiasm -for the table's own good-, and scribbled a quick note. He read his own words once; _"Gone to the library near Pointstrat Avenue. I'll be back by 4:30 or before"_. Smiling and satisfied about how the day was going so far, he grabbed a jacket from the hanger next to the door and walked out to the street. The sky was slightly cloudy and for a moment he thought a few, tiny raindrops had bounced on his nose. He wrinkled his face and looked up, searching for the sun somewhere, but there were no signs of it. "_It must be hiding,_" he thought and started walking down Red Street, the one his house was on.

Pointstrat Avenue was the widest street in Lima. Even replete of stores –rarely any houses, mostly shops- it wasn't suffocating like New York; of course, not that Blaine didn't like his hometown, but this was much quieter. The fact that not every single building –not to say that there weren't actually any buildings or skyscrapers down in Lima- was frowned upon if it didn't touch the sky was rather nice. Back at home he seldom was able to find the sun. Here, instead, the only thing he had to do was set his gaze in front of him and, unless he had a wall an inch away from his face, he could see the sky already above his head.

Once he reached the corner of Red Street and Blue Street, he turned right and descried the Avenue even more deserted than usual, given the dislikeable weather. Blaine, on the other hand, thought it couldn't get any better. Not only did he love clouds, rain or not, but he still was amazed by how delightful little Lima was, so cozy. He caught sight of the simple wooden sign, hanging from above the door, painted in orange and light blue: _Lima's Bookshop_.

"_Strange combination of colors,_" he thought. He considered the building; simple enough. The walls were painted a faint red, it took over the entire corner and even if it looked small on the inside, it had two stories. Finally, he stepped in.

If Blaine hadn't liked how _Lima's Bookshop_ looked, kind of dingy from the outside, the other side of the door was a different place and he loved it. It wasn't fancy whatsoever but the walls and the room were lined with rows upon rows of bookshelves. There was also a counter on the right, next to a window behind which an old, adorable looking man stood, reading off some used up notebook. Right opposite to the door there was a narrow staircase.

The elder lifted his gaze and set his eyes on the curly, dark-haired boy that had just walked in.

"Why, hello son," he greeted, lowering his glasses and politely analyzing Blaine with his clear and foggy eyes "may I help you with something?"

"I just want to read…" he stammered a bit. That sounded stupid "Something" he tried to fix. Great, now he was a real clever lad. He cursed to himself.

"Well, you've come to a good place," he continued with a soft chuckle. He walked from behind the counter to him and held out his hand ", my name is Noah Beaster." As Blaine shook Mr. Beaster's hand, he couldn't help but notice two things: the irony of his last name _Beast_-er, and how it contrasted with his fragile and somewhat weak aspect –Blaine was careful to squeeze just enough as you're supposed to during handshakes so he didn't crush Mr. Beaster's fingers- and how he had never meet anyone shorter than him. Not only as in height, but also regards the size of the man. He wasn't a dwarf or anything like it, but he looked so delicate, he seemed smaller than he even was.

"Blaine. Anderson, sir," he reacted anyway. The older man gave a soft nod and a new smile.

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Hmm, not really, as I said before, sir, I just want to read," he recalled his embarrassing reply and made Mr. Beaster laugh again.

"Well, look around as you please. There are more books upstairs," he said.

"Thanks."

Blaine went up the stairs right away, not even scanning the books on the ground floor. To his surprise, the first floor was just a bit bigger than the other one. The floor was carpeted and the walls were –just as downstairs- a darker red than the façade of the store. Where the corner of the block was situated, there was a large window, below which there were more and lower stacks of books, surrounding a bunch of seats –probably the ones Nick had remembered-and a squat table in the center. The entire place was plagued with novels, yellowish pages and appealing covers and when he smelled both the old and new sheets, he remembered how much he loved reading.

He seemed to be the only one at _Lima's Bookshop_ so he decided to start with the books upstairs, nearby the comfortable armchairs. He gingerly stepped towards the bookshelves in the middle of the room, as though they might go away like some type of ethereal magic. When he faced the books he only let his fingers trail off and wander over the spines.

After a fleeting instant, he was positive he heard feet sinking in the carpet somewhere near. He could only catch a glimpse of what he recognized to be the same light brown hair he had seen in two other occasions already, before the person walked down the stairs hurriedly. He frowned and hesitated about going after the person that, apparently, seemed to be of his same age or so, but a second later, he slapped himself and snorted. Why would he follow a stranger? He kept on searching through the books until he found something he was quite keen on; Ray Bradbury. He hadn't had a chance to read it. _Fahrenheit 451_was his latest novel, released three years ago. He blinked and looked at his watch, it was only nine in the morning and the book had about two-hundred pages. If he could read it and then go back to his place for lunch, then his day was pretty much made.

"Game on," he muttered with a smile.

* * *

><p>When he got to his place at 02:29 in the afternoon, according to his watch, he was hungry and frozen, but satisfied. Ray Bradbury proved with every single novel or story he wrote that he indeed had a bizarre yet amazing style and, more importantly, his own; that was undisputed. After having lunch –and throwing out the note he had left before- time seemed to fly by, right through music and books. As Mr. Beaster liked Blaine, he had invited him a cup of hot chocolate and given him the chance of taking a book or two to his place, if he committed to bring them back the next day. He, of course, accepted with an impossibly broader and eager smile.<p>

When he realized it was almost five o'clock already, he put down the book and ran to his bedroom, deciding in the moment what he would wear. He was far more pleased and much less nervous about the party, even though it was just his second time. He was still a newbie in town and in danced, of course, but taking into account how nice people was, how loud music blasted and how great David and Nick were, he was starting to feel really comfortable in that place. When the doorbell rang a couple minutes later he ran downstairs and pulled the door open.

"Thank God you don't come with my parents again," he received his two friends, who looked up in surprise and smiled "I think I would've been traumatized," still with his hand on the doorknob he wrapped his anorak even tighter around him.

"Hey, we're your friends!" Nick exclaimed waiting for Blaine to close the door.

"Exactly, thankfully you're not my brothers," he retorted and finished with a big smile. David laughed out loud as the other one acted offended.

"You used to be nice," he said simply, faking sadness.

"You're steering me into the dark side," they kept on joking.

"Dude, you're drunk," David breathed with his hands on his pockets, freezing.

"No I'm not, I'm just happy," he terminated as he jumped on the spot. Six blocks later or so, they got to the same dancehall they had gone to the last time. The decoration was practically the same, except for the fact the lights came in brighter colors: orange, green, hot pink, yellow and light blue. There was even more people than the day before and Elvis' voice was still echoing across the street.

As soon as he walked in, people soon noticed and surrounded him. He recognized a few folks and gals from last night but there was no trace of Rebecca. He danced a long while with David, Nick and a couple of new friends until a slow song began and they left the dance floor to make room for the new couples.

"I'm exhausted," David gasped.

"Tell me about it," the other one breathed. The three of them drank a glass of punch before sighing at the same time.

"I'm hot, but not tired," Blaine expressed with a raspy voice. The other two looked at him still panting "You're right, who am I kidding? I feel like Methuselah."

"Oh my god, Blaine, look who's coming," Nick alerted as they caught sight of the attractive girl.

How did his pulse increase at that rate in such a short notice, he didn't know. He only figured she was strutting in his direction but never making eye contact. At last, she made her way through the boys and grabbed two beverages and then looked Blaine deep into the eyes, who couldn't avoid feeling both scared and menaced. "_Well if that didn't do it, then I'm never feeling naked again,"_ he felt so vulnerable whenever she bestowed that humiliating quality her gaze had.

"For God's sake, that chick is too weird, man," David called, finishing his drink.

"Even for Blain-"

"Even for me, yes," the hazel eyed teenager said in his defense and made both his friends chuckle.

"Okay, Thompson, let's get some action," he smashed the plastic cup against the table making the bowls and ladles tremble.

"What about Blaine?" David asked with a hint of hope in his voice, too tired to carry on.

"No, old Methuselaine died in 1656," Nick answered, rubbing his hands "besides, we're getting _him_ a new date. Can't be involved himself."

"Methuselaine, really?" he muttered listlessly and raised his voice "Help me, please?" he pleaded before being dragged into the infinite bunch of people. Blaine just laughed one more time

Elvis' _Hound Dog_ wasn't Blaine's favorite tune, so when the song started he decided to stay away from the hormoned-up crowd and rest on the long, white table which was still there, full of punch and snacks, like they had left it the night before. He took a new sip of his drink and looked around. Girls and boys dancing together, pressed against each other, some grinding and other just… staring, not to say drooling. How were they so interested in that? Obviously, there were loads of pretty girls and most of them were great dancers, some of them even terrific. However, Blaine wasn't completely content with that idea for himself. Every day that went by he was more and more certain that he liked boys. How he knew, was a mystery, since he had never had a boyfriend or anything remotely like it. He had never even been attracted to a boy in that way, but somehow he knew it. Sure, he had seen cute, handsome teenagers and experienced a tingling sensation all throughout his body; something he didn't feel with girls, but that was that.

And as though he sent a signal or something just thinking of it, his stomach clenched and his heartbeat accelerated, for the third time in the day. Diagonally to where he was standing, a boy appeared from between the crowd. He wasn't even pushing, people just made a path for him to walk through and when his whole body and face were revealed, Blaine felt like he wasn't supposed to be looking; as though it was something sacred, too much, too good for him to even glance at.

The slender, tall figure kept on strutting, almost seemingly, in slow motion, but it was a different kind of strut. He wasn't absurdly prancing like Rebecca, no; his elegance and raw beauty were natural, even graceful. His persona shouted _lithe_ and his face was like nothing Blaine had ever seen. He only noticed how unrealistically gorgeous he was before averting his gaze for three reasons: first and foremost, he couldn't stare at a guy like that –especially not in public and with that big of a turn out at the party.

Second, when his amazed, hazel eyes met the other boy's, he felt an electric twist running from the top of his head to the tip of his toes and Goosebumps soaked his skin.

And third, he was sure –if it hadn't been a trick of the light or something- that the teenager looked deep into his eyes for just a tiny, ephemeral instant and then looked away, with a spark that reflected both irritation and weariness.

He looked at his perfectly sculptured hair.

He now knew who the light-brown haired person he had been running into was. And God, did Lima just keep getting better and better?

* * *

><p><em>After reading The Sidhe and Swing Sets and Sandboxes –two amazing, masterpieces, just... Dear god- my writing seems so mediocre. I'm trying to read and take as much stuff and material in as possible so I can improve my vocabulary a bit. Hopefully it'll work.<em>

_By the way, I have two new ideas for fanfics, but we'll see if where that goes, I'm still pondering over it, I'm really excited though._

_Also, I want to apologize for taking so long to update. Is just that I'm not inspired and I don't to give you stuff I don't like myself. When I'm not happy with what I do, it feels plain wrong, so unless I feel like I'm writing fluently, I doubt I'm able to write something. So, I'm really sorry for this. Also, it's 2 am and I have to go to school tomorrow so... Yay! Hope at least something good comes out of this._

_PS: I started listening to Freelance Whales, and DEAR GOD. I love this music and everything about it, it's so beautiful and delicate it makes me wanna dance._

_Just so you know, I'll be uploading_ Lima's Bookshop _drawing tomorrow or something, if you want to see it check out my deviantart (it's in my profile). Hope you really like it and you can leave opinions, CRITICS, suggestions, AAAAANYTHING as a review. It sure speeds up the process (no pressure though, :/)_

_Featured songs: Elvis' – Hound Dog_

_Lots of love, thank you and enjoy :)_

_3_

_[RVWD]_


	6. Nicknames and Books

Before he could snap himself out of his immersion he heard Nick's voice in the background.

"You're gonna love him," it kept on becoming louder and louder "Blaine, Blaine!"

He finally felt someone tugging at his shirt sleeve and turned around abruptly, still a faint daydreamer.

"Blaine, this is Patricia, she's new in town," he introduced raising his eyebrows. She looked so sweet and innocent, Blaine couldn't believe his friend. He shook the girl's hand absentmindedly "I think you two are going to get along jus—"

"Nick, I really have to go, I'm sorry, I need some fresh air, I'm not feeling all that fine," he stumbled upon his own words with as many excuses as he could come up with.

"Whoa, whoa, what's wrong?" his friend asked frowning in slight concern.

"Nothing, I'm just kind of… dizzy," he highlighted the double meaning in his head. What was he even doing there? He needed to go looking for him, he had this urge and he was idly standing there like an idiot, talking to his friend and "Patricia", who he didn't even know "I'm fine, Nick, don't mind me," he yelled to make himself hear over the music as he started walking backwards "See you tomorrow!" he swung around and almost knocked a couple of girls down.

"What happened?" David's head popped from behind.

"I don't know what was the matter with him," Nick admitted still confused.

"More like what _wasn't,_" Patricia said out of nowhere.

"What?" Nick turned, surprised.

"No, no, Blaine is an amazing guy, Patricia, really," his other friend tried to comfort her.

"He seemed kind of a dork to me," she pursed her lips.

"Well, then maybe you're just not good enough for him," Nick retorted.

"Nick!" David exclaimed scandalized "I'm sorry Patricia, he didn't mean th-"

"What a jerk," she just said "both of you," and walked away.

"I can't believe you," he shoved him lightly.

"No one's gonna insult my friends, okay?" he snapped "I mock him enough as a friend, but she has no right," he shook his head, still upset.

"I know, but you can't tell a girl _that_-"

"Can we go home now?" he asked. David looked at him for a second, cut in the middle of a sentence, gestures suspended in the air. He dropped his hands and exhaled.

"Sure," he sighed with a smile and they, too, evaporated in the midst of the crowd.

* * *

><p>He stepped into the cold, fresh night as he looked around helplessly, desperate. Where was he? He had just seen him inside and he was sure he had caught sight of him leaving the dancehall. Julian Avenue was deserted except for the clump of cars with teenagers chatting, smoking and making out around them. He glanced sideways and when he turned his face to his left, he caught a glimpse of the boy. Walking hurriedly round the corner. With a girl.<p>

"Well, _that_ sucks," he couldn't help spit out the words. Some of the girls dancing about in a half-drunk way stared at him and giggled. Blaine sighed and hiding his hand in his pockets, he shuffled his way home.

* * *

><p>"It's nice, isn't it?" his father stated proudly.<p>

With a smile on his face, he studied it from every angle possible. The presumptuous and fancy black Lincoln Continental, just arrived from New York, was shining under the glimmering sun, sparkles flashing here and there.

"It's great, dad," Blaine agreed, nodding his head. He had never seen that childish spark in his father's hazel eyes. Linda stood from a distance, eyeing it not as carefully.

"Gift from Dewey Thinnerwolf," he mentioned "Mark II, one of the most expensive cars out there. And the latest, real novelty," he put his hands on his waist and kept on staring at it.

"He really is making his way into the firm, isn't he?" his wife stepped into Mr. Anderson's monologue.

"Why, yes, being the son of one of the co-directors, he has every right. Studying law that one, too, I'll tell you; best grades in his class and everything, I wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to be one of the bests," he sighed with a satisfied grin "And working for us once he's over, of course!"

"Henry Kissinger had a similar one" he added after a moment of silence.

"So does Frank Sinatra," Blaine added. His parents turned to look at him, Linda with a slightly condescending smile on her soft face "or so I've heard."

* * *

><p>"Blaine, Blaine!" Nick started yelling as soon as his friend set a foot on <em>Jim's<em>black and white floor. Blaine seemed a little taken aback at how fiercely his friend threw himself at him, with a huge smile.

"What the heck?" he muttered when Nick grasped his shirt and dragged him to the booth where David was.

"Remember how we gave you that nickname you hated so much?" he stammered "_Honey-bear_?"

"Yes, I remember it as unnecessary and ridiculous as it was. I remember when we also said there was no need to—"

"Well, we came up with a new one," still grabbing him by the arm, he sat Blaine down and placed next to him.

"Nick, drop it-" David started with a lazy laughter.

"Triangles!" he exclaimed frantically waving his hands in the air "You know, because of your eyebrows..." he pointed a finger at them.

"Mother of god" he dropped his forehead into his palms.

"What? It's great," he said in his defense.

"Well, it _is_ better than honey-bear," Blaine considered.

"And hell, is it more accurate," David pointed out once again.

"We can always come up with a new one or return to the old one if you like to—"

"Fine!" he gave in, causing their friends to smile with satisfaction.

"Oh, by the way, tonight we're-"

"Don't say party! I won't take three nights in a row!"

"Relax, dude, we're just having dinner here tonight," David calmed him.

"Yeah, chill, Triangles," both Nick and David burst out laughing.

"Ha, ha, very funny. Okay, I'm sorry, it's just that… I'm really tired, that's all."

"Yeah, you were not cut out for partying hard, were you?"

"Doesn't seem like it, no," Nick answered for him.

"Whatever…"

"That reminds me, are you feeling better?" Nick pointed him.

"Are you asking me if I got over your stupid nickname?"

"Hilarious. No, I'm asking you about last night," he continued. For a moment Blaine had absolutely no idea what he was referring to "you know, when you said you were ill or something?"

"Oh, yeah!" he recalled a little too loud "Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, I… I'm better."

"Great, then."

He remembered then the reason he had told that lie. _The boy_.

He evoked his vague features. There was smoke, quite a distance and a hormonal haze between the two of them so he hadn't been able to study his face as well as he would've liked.

"Can I ask you something?" Something shook in his stomach when he felt two pair of eyes on his face, still trying to concentrate on the fork between his fingers "Yesterday there was this guy…" he commenced, frantically searching in his mind how to put his thoughts so that it wouldn't come out the wrong –yet actually intended- way "He was…" wonderful, unbelievable, angelical, rare "weird looking."

"Weird looking? What do you mean, like… Quasimodo?" David, next to Nick, laughed.

"Smartass," he snorted "No… Not in a bad way," he flinched at his very own selection of words "I mean… He looked very… delicate,"

"So, like Tinker Bell," Nick stated again.

"God…" Blaine sighed.

"Yeah, we know who you're talking 'bout, buddy," David thought it was necessary to step in "Baby skin, tall, pointy nose and brown hair, with a cocky halo?" he described "Slender?" he offered, winning a baffled look from his friend.

"_Slender_?" he stared "Really?"

"What?"

"Yeah, yes, that one," Blaine called them back to reality before they started fighting and deflected the conversation "but what's that with the cocky halo?" he asked, fork immobile in his hands.

"Kurt Hummel," his hear skipped almost three beats or so when he heard the name. Not only it was a lovely name, but the fact he knew one more, small thing about the boy had him both nervous and excited "we might've mentioned him a couple of times."

"We hate him," Nick leaned ferociously, slamming both hands on the table. David backed him down with a hand on his shoulder.

"We don't hate him;" he said "is just that he's got a real way with women and getting exactly what he wants. He's such a womanizer," disappointment overflowed and left him a disgusted expression.

"And yeah, he's weird," the other affirmed "Anyways, if I were you…" his words buzzed into Blaine's ear and out the other. Womanizer? He didn't really look like one of those.

"_God, you're being so silly, Blaine, pull yourself together, man," _he demanded. The hole that was getting wider and wider in his stomach was both inexplicable and stupid. Absurd, completely absurd.

"So, dinner tonight?" he returned to reality with a distracted "Huh?"

"Here, at eight o'clock?" David asked.

"Works perfectly fine for me," the clear eyed boy nodded, eyes set somewhere else.

"Love to," Blaine finished, still in his own world a bit.

* * *

><p>When the two boys left for their place –David lived with Nick and his parents on account of a not too happy childhood and a family that was rather tacky and disinterested- he was left with two choices: either going to his house and listen to music or go to <em>Lima's Bookshop<em>. After practically two seconds of debate with himself, he went for the second one; it was true, he was tired, but he really didn't feel like lying on his bed and stare at the ceiling.

"Good morning, Mr. Anderson" the old man said as Blaine stepped in the place about twenty minutes later. To Blaine's surprise, he remembered his name. They had spoken the day before, but given his age, he didn't think he would. Mr. Beaster seemed to notice, as he said "Ah, I might be seventy two years old but I do have a good memory for names, son." he smiled pointing at him with a pen. The teenager giggled quietly and walked up to the wooden counter "Back for some more reading, are ya'?" Once again, Blaine couldn't help but laugh; Mr. Beaster sure was a kid, no matter how old he was.

"Yeah, actually, I was supposed to bring you these books I borrowed yesterday," he extended his right hand holding the two thin volumes.

"Responsible lad, aren't you?" the elder chuckled again, receiving a similar one "Now, now, off you go. You have upstairs to read yet," he winked and Blaine thanked him. He yawned just as he reached the upper floor and rubbed his eyes, taking a right turn and standing in front of the huge mass of books.

He saw Truman Capote's _Other Voices, Other Rooms_, from 1948. Also, two hundred pages or so "_Why not give it a go?_" he thought. He grabbed it and walked to the armchair spot just before his eyes opened as plates and a sudden and kind of violent leap backward was given, taking it one step further and practically hiding behind the bookshelves. The day before he _had_ seen the back of a head, now he was positive it was his. _Kurt's._ He repeated the name in his head and his breathing came to a tidier beat. He tried to look as cool as possible and shuffled again to the seats. He decided it was best not to look at him, even if the curiosity was killing him. He had him there, right there, no more than ten feet away. He figured opening the book would be better than staring so intensely at his lap, not only this kid didn't like Blaine –for some unknowable reason- but he now probably thought he was a pervert too.

He had to watch. If he could just pluck up the courage to look at him, just… a small glance over his book. The words _so close_ and somehow the feeling of temptation were invading him as seconds went by. He swallowed and closed his eyes. He heard a chortle and his sight automatically flew to the kid in front of him, contrary to his will. Still, he saw nothing, as his entire face was covered by the book; _The Turn of the Screw_, a most depressing and somewhat scary book. The first part was a problem for him, though he did like scary stuff. Edgar Allan Poe was, in fact, a writer he very much liked; not his favorite at all, he had to admit, but he was without a doubt interesting.

"Perhaps if you focus on the words, you'll be able to move forward from the title."

He was paralyzed yet somehow he managed to quickly bury his head in the armchair, holding the book right opposite to his eyes, causing another delightful scoff to come out of the other boy's mouth. He was talking to him and, boy, did he have a dreamy voice?

"If you can't handle me talking to you, I doubt you'll be able to handle that book," he continued, this time barely muttering without ripping the eyes off the pages.

"Excuse me?" Blaine finally said after a minute or so, still sheltering off the pages.

"So you _can_ talk," he quietly raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong about this book?" he asked, daring to take a peek, only to see an impeccable hairdo.

"Oh, no, there's nothing wrong about _the book_, although it seems there's plenty wrong with you," yet no face visible. Blaine faintly noticed how the sun was slowly disappearing behind a bunch of bright clouds.

"Huh," he let a clumsy snort out "you don't know me."

Well, that was a golden retort.

"You're not really coming off as _bright _right now," he said, closing his book "you're not even making an effort," and he looked up. If it hadn't been because Blaine was already puzzled due to the strange conversation, he would have been even more bewildered. The "baby skin, pointy nose, cocky halo and slender" description was as accurate as could be and it should have had a ton of other positive and adoring adjectives. For a minute there, he just stared at Kurt Hummel, with his electric blue eyes, smirk and graceful eyebrows. "See? You can't even maintain a conversation," he raised another eyebrow.

"I'm Blaine," was the only clever –and still, barely- thing that he came up with. He held out his hand for the other boy to shake and introduce himself.

"Sure, you must know who I am by now, though, so…" he took the book in his hands and got up. Blaine retrieved his hand back to his side.

"Why would you assume that?" he stammered, hesitantly following him.

"Because I saw you last night at the party," he began, no hint of anger on his face this time "you're friends with Duval and Thompson, aren't you?"

"I'm friends with Nick and David, yeah," he was still slightly mesmerized. They weren't flirting or anything but there was a suspicious implication in the perfect haired boy's voice, even if the intentions in his tone were something he couldn't quite fathom.

"Well, they do not like me; after all, I'm not that easy to forget, am I?" he asked more to himself than to Blaine, however he added "You should know," and at that point his face turned sour.

"I'm sorry if I offended you last night, it wasn't my intention to…" he shrugged for a moment without really knowing where he was going, before Kurt cut him in the middle of his sentence.

"To stare? At a party full of people? Yeah, well, you're not really supposed to," he stated, especially emphasizing the "_you"_.

"I… I'm sorry, I said already…" Blaine tried to apologize again, confused.

"Whatever," the boy with the cocky halo indeed sentenced with a miserable and exasperated roll of eyes, starting to go downstairs. He was frozen and honestly couldn't comprehend what he had done wrong; it wasn't like he had serenaded him. The sound of the bell pulled him out of his trance, for the tenth time in three days or so, making him run downstairs and out the place hurriedly. He saw him strolling down Pointstrat Avenue to his left and tried to reach him, far enough so that he wouldn't get more upset or think Blaine was a complete psycho.

"Hey, hey! Excuse me, can you tell me what I have done to y—"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd stop talking or chasing me," he replied turning his head over his shoulder with an acid and totally fake smile before disappearing beyond the corner. Blaine stopped dead. He didn't know what else to do; he didn't want to push or _disobey_ Kurt. He squinted a bit with his mouth slightly open and he bit his lip before turning around and starting his way back home. He couldn't bring himself to decide whether going to Lima's Bookshop had been a good or a bad call.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, so they finally meet. Something that has been a bit pulled back, so.. sorry about that. I told you I needed an 8 in Law and a 10 in Accounting and I got both! So I failed no subjects, I'm school free -actually, obligation free- and I have plenty of time to do whatever I want until March when I start classes again, but that is a loooooong way to go. I would've updated earlier (I officially finished classes on November 25th) but I tried and nothing good came out so today I felt like I really owed you, guys, so I sat down and wrote this. I quite like it, but I hope you like it too because that's more important. I'm learning so much about literature and music and this years. I love to learn little random facts and stuff when doing casual things, so that's something I like to include too in my fanfictions (if it hadn't been for them, I wouldn't have heard of Fred Astaire to begin with). <em>

_So please, review and tell me HONESTLY what you think of it; remember, the last thing I want you guys to read are one of those completely absurd fanfics that make you cringe in your seat. So tell me with all sincerity and I'll try to do my best with what I have and what you point out for me._

_Thanks and sorry, again! _

_Loooots of love for you all 3_

[RVWD]


	7. Prying, overlynice Blaine

"Blaine, honey, come down! Your father and I are about to have lunch!"

From the bathroom, a smile lit up his son's face. He hadn't had much dinner last night –because of _reasons_- and to be honest, he was starving. He jumped three stairs at a time, sliding his hand down the shiny rail. He greeted both his parents and sat down as his mother placed a plate full of sandwiches.

"Yum," he breathed and reached out for one.

"So, Blaine," his father talked "any plans for today with your friends?"

"Not really. We don't usually make much; we just gather at _Jim's_ and decide there what we're doing for the day," he kept on chewing, eyes fixed on his food.

"Then you don't mind if today they start working a little bit?" he asked, grabbing the newspaper on the table.

"Wha— No! Not at all, I mean… Have they been absent or something?" he got all flustered, wide eyes with worry.

"Not at all. Today is day one, son," he frowned slightly "What is the matter?"

"Oh.." he sighed relieved, waving the matter away "Just, you said 'they start working a little bit' and it freaked me out cause it sounded as though they ought to be but they weren't and…"

"They're alright, son, don't worry," he comforted him and Blaine breathed one more time. He really wanted his parents to approve of his friends, even to like them "By the way, I went to the mechanic's yesterday," he folded his daily and left it on the table before standing up "a nice, simple garage a couple of blocks down from here."

"Is the car alright, dear?" the woman asked, while washing some dishes.

"It sure is, darling," Walter pecked his wife's cheek, ripping a sweet smile from her lips "So, as I was saying, I'm sorry, son, but you can take this day off," his father continued, looking at him and raising his eyebrows.

"That's great," he knew exactly what he was going to do.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to be stood up or anything," he joked and his wife laughed.

"Oh, Walter!" she giggled, lightly nudging his husband's chest and walked to the table to summon the empty dishes "I'm sure Blaine doesn't need to be surrounded by people all the time to be entertained, honey?" she grabbed Blaine's face by the jaw gently and he looked up at her, soft smile revealing "So handsome," his mother continued with a loving note on her voice. She caressed his cheek for a second before returning to the counter.

"There's this bookshop I'm going to," he mentioned "it's great; I'm reading lots of books," he told them with a glitter in his eyes that resembled an excited child on his birthday.

"Reading is good, Blaine, I'm glad you're doing that," his father congratulated as his mother nodded.

"Yeah, heading off to it actually, so…" he took a sip of the bubbly, almost black soda. He got off his chair and walked up to their parents so his mother could press a kiss on the top of his curly head with a "See you later, sweetie," and his father did the same with a firmer spirit and in a more masculine way "I'll send them your regards," and Blaine laughed within at the formality of the statement.

After getting dressed with a short sleeved shirt and the lightest pair of jeans he could find –boy, was June hot in that place?-, he walked down to the library. And he thought of Kurt, of Kurt Hummel. He had no idea what he was going to do with him. Albeit there wasn't much to do with him; he didn't want them to talk, to walk together, to be in the same library, to bond or anything that had something to do with Blaine.

And _why_, was the most important uncertainty? He had no idea.

They hadn't even exchanged words that much and they had seen _each other_ no more than three times.

"_Whatever_," Blaine thought, trying to understand but with a huge and growing disappointment in the pit of his stomach "_sometimes we just look at someone and know that we don't like them almost immediately,"_ it was not helping.

The fact that Kurt didn't like him –_Kurt Hummel, Hummel. _He was in no familiar or amiable place to call him just_ Kurt- _wasn't of his own liking, even if there was not much he could do about it. For Christ's sake, the kid wouldn't even talk to him. Or so it seemed.

He just waved away the subject in nuisance and stepped into the cool air inside _Lima's Bookshop_.

* * *

><p>"Kurt!" his father called, usual tiredness in his voice. He gulped.<p>

"Coming, dad!" he replied from his room. He briskly went downstairs just to find his father in the kitchen, back to him, hands grasping on the counter. Kurt's energetic blue eyes opened just a little bit as he took a step closer to him "Dad?" he said with his delicate voice.

Burt turned his head around slowly and not much "Yeah," he sighed "I'm still here," addressing the usual yet this time unasked question in Kurt's mouth.

There was a not awkward, yet bitter pause.

"What's up?" he asked casually.

"I, huh… I need you to help me tomorrow in the shop," he let a rough hand slide heavily down his face "Can you do that?"

"Sure," he agreed right away. He gazed at his father out of the corner of his eyes, who had now his back against the counter and rubbing his eyes.

His father had been like this ever since his mother had left. Not because she wanted to, for sure. None of them wanted to. Burt Hummel was a lonely man, but still polite and he did try to carry on as he could, he simply couldn't let a thing like that bring him down. Not when it was something he couldn't do anything about and especially when it was something that didn't affect only him.

On his side, all Kurt could do was sucking it up and help his father as he could, try to be as bright and happy as he could whenever around him. Even if he wasn't. Sure, he was proud of himself and the fact that he was one of the most popular kids in town, but still his life was now dull and it lacked the colors, emotions and all those fresh and new twirls that were constantly present when his mother _was_ around.

"So whatcha up to today, kid?" he took a mug of coffee, dragging his words just a little bit.

"Mercedes is out this week with her parents, she went to Greensboro, in North Carolina to visit her cousins," he muttered "and Rachel's dating this kid, Finn, from school and she's going out with him today, so… I guess I'll just go to the library," normally he would've said this with a more evident delight in his voice and a small smile, but instead all that the muscles in his face seemed able to do was to wince.

"Something wrong?" his father asked slight concern showing in his forehead.

"No," "_I just need her a lot"_ he finished in his head. He couldn't bring himself to tell the truth to his father. Not because he normally lied to him, but because he did not want to bring up the subject. They rarely mentioned her, even though they both knew it was pretty much all they could think about.

"Okay, if you need something, I'll be at the workshop," he proffered. He patted his son's shoulder as he walked by him and left through the door, leaving the tears to clump in his eyes.

"No, no, no!" he reprimanded himself, hastily making them disappear from his eyes. He stood ramrod straight and allowed a steady moan to leave his throat.

He had a nice, two-story house on Blue Street, with his father's place of work right on the other side of the street and two blocks away from Pointstrat Avenue –to say the same- from his favorite library.

When he walked in, making the familiar bell above him sound like it did almost every morning, an old man raised his eyes and set them on Kurt through his lenses. Noah Beaster was an old friend from the family and he knew both Burt and him very well and the same was with his mother. It was her indeed, who had introduced them all.

Elizabeth, Kurt's mother –and whose name he had kind of secretly adopted on his own account, too-, used to read to him every single night. Tales for kids as a toddler, not fairy tales necessarily, but they always had happy endings. And as he grew, she started reading things slightly more suitable for grownups or teenagers, feeding him with imagination, passion about diving into entirely different worlds, vocabulary and an incredible and snappy wit.

And that was why he considered this bookshop to be so close to him, it had a special place in his heart; he would always save a special corner in it for anything related to his mother, from her favorite coffee blend and her unique apple, vanilla and wood perfume to her favorite Danielle Darrieux and Doris Day albums and _Lima's Bookshop_.

Thinking about how she had walked around the place a thousand times, stepped on the same stairs, grasped the same knob, stroked the same spines and just… the fact that she had been there was enough for him to want and spend as much time as he could in _Lima's Bookshop_. And not that he believed in ghosts, but when he reread the books she had sometimes hummed to him in his childhood and a peek into his teenager years, he could remember her voice so clearly it hurt. And he felt in touch with her, just a tad more than during the rest of the day.

And that was why when he went upstairs to keep on reading _The Turn of the Screw_ and recognize the back of a curly, dark head a sudden exasperation and anger rose in his chest.

"Are you seriously going to be here all the time from now on?" he snapped. Bryan or whatever-his-name-fucking-was –though deep inside he was quite sure it was Blaine- turned around with fear in his face. He swallowed harshly and really soft wrinkles emerged above his eyebrows "Well?" he insisted coldly. He turned around and placed himself again in the chair uncomfortably, under the icy gaze of Kurt, who started giving a few disinterested yet slow steps, attention fully concentrated on the kid. He noticed how he was fidgeting yet trying to conceal it.

Gee, they both knew he didn't like him but he wasn't going to murder him.

"If I annoy you so much, why don't you just leave?"

Or maybe he was.

Kurt stopped dead and faced him so quietly it scared Blaine even more.

Was he even fucking serious? Who did he think he was? The amount of things he wanted to yell at him was so big, he closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled and bit his lip so hard he could almost taste the blood.

"I'm not leaving. I was here first," he articulated with a plastic smile, as if he was talking to a two year old.

"It's not your property," he looked confused, shocked and offended and when Kurt practically haul himself at him, he jumped on his chair.

"I'm not someone you can just step on or walk over," he placed his hands on the armrests, coming far too much into Blaine's personal space for the taste of either one of them "I'm not letting you do that, ergo, I am not leaving," he practically spelled. He split brusquely but kept on eyeing him "As much as I hate the mere idea of sharing a room with you," he spitted. Blaine, whose eyes had never been quite as wide a moment ago, was now intently looking at Kurt, who was now turning his back on him and his breathing less and less uneven by the second.

"You know, if I wasn't as polite as I am, you left a pretty open spot for a dirty joke right there," had he really said that? _Neither_ of them could believe it. Blaine held back his breathing and Kurt merely sighed and disappeared behind the stack of books and grabbed his own without taking much of a sideways glance to it, knowing where he had left it the day before. When he returned to the armchair circle only a few feet away, he took a quick look at what the boy was now reading again, too peacefully.

"Do you even know what that book is about?" he asked still with that edge on his voice, walking gracefully to his usual armchair, making Blaine's eyes set on him again, still patient and apparently innocent.

"Excuse me?" Why on earth was he so nice and courteous all the time?

"It sure will make people even more suspicious than those bowties of yours," he poked, crossing his legs and opening his book.

"There's nobody here and what are you even talking about?" to Kurt's satisfaction, he could notice the tiredness becoming more and more notorious as he dropped his head to the side a little.

"Not to mention the way you stare at people. Or me, for that matter," he continued, Blaine's words unheard "By the way, have you made it _past_ the cover or are you still stuck on it? Because a wonderful way to start, believe me, is to—"

"_Stop_ it!" he lowered his voice with the second word, trying not to get Mr. Beaster's attention. With the right elbow on the armrest, he rubbed his forehead, eyes closed. Kurt smiled at how he was getting on his nerves "I haven't quite started it yet, no. I arrived a couple of minutes before you did and… Well, you haven't given me a real chance to start… reading… it," he exhaled clumsily, dropping his hand and locking eyes with the boy in front of him, who was looking at him through his eyelashes "Have you read it?"

"No. Don't want to;" he practically ignored his query "It's really about people. Lots of weird, interesting personages; transvestites, tomboys, queer ladies, a quadriplegic, illnesses, lots of drama… There's also the…" he doubted for a moment "the protagonist," he cleared his throat as indifferently as possible.

"What about him?" Blaine asked, frowning. Kurt shot a grimace at him and contorted his whole face in disgust and awkwardness, returning his eyes to his own novel "What's wrong with him?"

"There's nothing _wrong_ with him!" he raised his voice sharply, making Blaine flinch again.

"Thank God my parents didn't ask me what I was reading," he whispered after a silent pause and Kurt squirmed at the mention of Blaine's parents. He actually squirmed at the mention of anybody's parents, in plural, so he usually tried to steer clear from that subject "If my father ever found out I'm reading about people he doesn't think highly of… No matter how Truman Capote the book is," he joked, offering a low chuckle. His eyes flickered to Kurt's displeased face for a second "My mother, on the other hand-"

"Yeah, well, I don't care what your parents ask you," he cut him. Blaine looked at him again, this time a little hurt. What had _his_ parents done to that boy?

"What is the matter with you?" he asked between calmly and snapping, and confused and sympathetic "You're acting like a child."

"I wish," he muttered, trying to hold back the tears. Jesus, why was he being so sensitive? It definitely was not being a good day for him.

"A stubborn, little one, not in a good, joyful way," Blaine continued not noticing how Kurt was sinking more and more into the chair, hiding his face. When he got no answer back, he proceeded "If you're not happy with the life _you're_ leading, it's not my fault."

And in that moment he didn't know whether to start laughing like a maniac, yelling bloody murder, slap the shit out of that bold character or just break and fall to his knees, crying, like he hadn't done in so many years.

He swallowed with new, hot tears beginning to cloud his sight and closed his book. Blaine expected him to shot one of those massacre-like looks but instead saw one of the most heartbreaking expressions he had ever witnessed.

Kurt stood up with eyes hard and impenetrable yet mussy with emotions, his chin high in the air and left the book in its regular place, without looking again at the other boy.

"Wait," Blaine called puzzled from his seat, stretching out his hand to grasp his arm and he only brushed it, but when he did, he snatched his hand back as though the touch had burned. Kurt's bearing, on the other hand, didn't even waver, he went downstairs and Blaine could've sworn he had heard a pitch in his breath.

There was something going on with that kid and Blaine was pretty sure he needed someone to talk to. Now, it was a long shot, and he was fully aware of it, but for a moment he wished he could be that person. How could he? How could he achieve that, knowing that he had hurt that kid, whatever he had done? Actually, he had done something, but whichever was the reason that what he said had actually touched the boy, made him feel that bad.

There was something he had to do, anything. And Blaine thought that first and foremost he had to start talking to him, even before gaining his trust. Otherwise it would be plain impossible.

* * *

><p>The very next day, Kurt was almost positive he wouldn't be going to the bookshop. He tried to resist the urge, knowing for sure that Blaine would be there, but after a couple of minutes he realized how stupid he was acting.<p>

Was he really going to allow some flinchy newbie to restrain him from going to one of his favorite places in the world?

No, that didn't make much sense.

Once in, he took the current novel he was working on and when he sat down to read it, he noticed it wasn't _his_ book. This was _Blaine's_ book. _Blaine_. Polite, stupid, prying, albeit overly-nice Blaine. When he started reliving their last conversation in his head, he dropped the suddenly sizzling book in his lap, releasing a shaky pant. He left the book on the table with a sour flavor in his mouth and went back to the shelves, looking for his own book. But after looking for it, he came to the realization that it wasn't there. Then it hit his mind.

Blaine.

Only this time it was plain stupid, prying _Blaine_.

He went downstairs, thumping his feet on every step he'd take, until he reached the countertop where his elder friend was.

"Noah, has someone borrowed any books recently?" he held onto it, his nails about to chip through the wood.

"That nice fella, Blaine Anderson," he went through the record notebook he kept.

"Noah, give me his address," he spelled, careful not to come too strong onto him, otherwise he'd get nothing but a phone call from Mr. Beaster to his father "Now, please,"

"29 Red Street," he said simply, gazing at Kurt "Try not to harm him or I'll be responsible too, kid," he joked with his regular sense of humor.

"Can't promise you anything," he called out before storming out, rebounding the violent bell against the wall and back.

* * *

><p>"Hey!"<p>

Why did he have to be so merry all the time?

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he uttered brimming with anger "Give me my book now," he extended his hand. Blaine looked at it and laughed under his breath, left hand on his pocket and the other one holding the door open, with him resting lightly against it.

"No," he shook his head with a soft smile playing on his lips.

"No. No?" Kurt repeated, astonished "No," he continued.

"No," he confirmed. He drew out the hand on his pocket and made a gesture towards him "did you find another book in the place yours usually is?"

"Hell, yes, I found that stupid book of yours so I correctly assumed that _you_ had _my_ book. Now, give it to me," he insisted in an intense and dangerously quiet tone. When Blaine did nothing and just plunked there, contemplating at him fixedly he warned him "I'm starting to lose my patience."

"What is it about 'my' book that bothers you so much?" he pried once more. But this time his voice wasn't teasing him, it wasn't even curious; it had a genuine mist of concern.

"What difference does it make?" he replied, this time more calmly yet still sharp.

"Well, I think you should read it," he suggested somewhat timidly as he stepped aside for Kurt to come in starting to clench his fists again.

"I don't want to read your goddamn book!" he shrieked in a far too high pitched voice for his preference.

"Why not?" he asked firmly yet not in an invasive way.

"It is none of your concern or affair, stop prying into my life as though you're a shrink or…" he waved his hand in the air looking for some accurate word to come out "Or…"

"God?" he proposed.

"Ha, ha… Do not, speak of God to me," he released a shallow laughter and smirked mirthlessly. Blaine's eyebrows shot right up.

"You don't believe in God?" he asked. Considering Lima was a pretty small town, he'd expect most people to have religious points of view. But it wasn't really that much of a surprise. After all, "most" wasn't the same as "everyone".

"What do you think?" they both fell in silence for a while before Kurt noticed the door was closed. And they probably were alone because he had yelled unconsciously at least three times in the past five minutes and no one's head had poked out of nowhere. No idea why, this was completely unnerving for him and he started to fidget. Especially when feeling the other boy's piercing eyes on his face.

"Look, just give me my book and I'll be out of your hair, I…" he begged looking at him in those marvelous, dark honey, gleaming irises. But when concentrating became too difficult, he had to avert his gaze "I just want to get my book back," he asked with appealing eyes.

"Can't you just tell me why you won't read it?" he pleaded.

"Because, Blaine, you are a nice guy, I'll give you that," he slid closer to him, whose big eyes were still following his every move "I don't like you one bit, but I know courteousness when I see it and you're a true gentleman and whatever," he opened his eyes for a second and shrugged "but this is something I do not wish to talk about. Not to you, not to anybody, okay?" he gave a hesitant nod, which Blaine returned with a guilty gulp.

"You're right, I'm sorry," he apologized "I'll be right back, I'll go get your book," he said and attempted to turn to his left and go up to his room, but a hand closed slouchily around his wrist.

"I'm not really in the mood to read anymore," he gave in with a softer version of the same defeated look he had given Blaine the day before "Besides, it's already late, just… bring it to me tomorrow, to Noah's bookstore, okay?" he asked with his head low and looking up at Blaine, who was standing in the third step.

The way Kurt was staring at him with those vigorous yet lost eyes made the world either revolve faster or missing of all motion. It was right there and now, way less than a minute but way more than five seconds. And it was one of Blaine's most glorious memories, deep into a swirl of predominant Tiffany blue, lime and maize.

"Okay," he nodded breathlessly, causing Kurt to open and close his mouth, without anything to say. He muttered a flushed "Thank you," before he opened the door with a last significant look at Blaine and left.

He had made a connection. Not everybody did what he had done with Kurt and vice versa. There had been a spark, and it didn't necessarily have to be a romantic spark, _at all –at all_, he repeated and forced into his head. But he knew from now on Kurt couldn't just ignore him, even if talking to Blaine wasn't going to be the part of the day he would most look forward to, they still were going to share moments. _Personal moments,_ Blaine hoped. Besides, if he wasn't wrong, he had just told him to meet him tomorrow.

He smiled to himself.

* * *

><p>Okay, so this is the longest chapter I've ever written and I don't know if it's my favorite too, I had a strike of inspiration and decided to take as much advantage of it as I could so I've been writing since 2 pm and I just finished this, being now 8:49 pm. Yep... I have to pee so badly.<p>

Besides, I realized writing while sitting in the hallway that goes from the living to the bedrooms in my house is great cause there's not a distracting factor. Even in my room I don't write so calmly.

I'd write more but I'm seriously about to burst (not to mention, my bladder), so... Hope you REALLY like this as much as I do and pretty pretty please, review, guys.

I know already what's happening in the next episodes and I still have a bit of inspiration left, so... who knows maybe you'll have the next chapter in a couple of days. I don't want to promise you anything though.

In case you forgot, you're wondering or anything, this is what Lima's Bookshop looks like.

meaghanmccormak. deviantart. com /#/ d4bf4ab

Erase all spaces guys, that's my deviantart, so you also have _Jim's _there, though nobody went there in this chapter.

That's about it, really, so, hope you like it and that's that :) Looooots of love.

Review, review, review :)

PS: By the way, guys, I'm starting a new fic, Surreal that it's about contemporaneous Klaine and it has lots of angst about Blaine's family and such. If you care to give it a go, I'd really appreciate it :)

[RVWD] Yeah, and that Surreal fic is something I'm still thinking about, I can't quite wrap my head around the plot, idk


	8. Swallows and Amazons

It was Sunday. Five in the morning. The sky wasn't quite dazzling and bright yet, but that wasn't the only reason the sun wasn't glimmering against a blue and energetic screen.

In the midst of the foggy drowsiness and reluctant to open his eyes, he could feel a gentle drumming against the glass. He knowingly smiled, perceiving the familiar, quite known dull and not-so-clear light through his eyelids. And then the smell of rain shocked right into his nostrils, making him inhale a big, deep breath of fresh air.

Without a doubt, Blaine's favorite weather was this one: the clouds, the rain and the blowing wind, everything about it. He loved every season and summer was beautiful, too, but as he recalled, the heat in New York didn't strike quite as strongly as in Lima, where he now was.

But he had been in this little town for almost two weeks, that –even if he _was_ having an amazing time- had gone by, oh, so incredibly slow, and had been two of the hottest weeks in his entire life. He looked over to his left and through the big window. If his bed wasn't so comfortable and the floor so fresh and nice to lie down on, he'd say it was what he liked the most about his new room. It was broad, letting tons of sunlight during sunny days and allowing him to see the bluish, gray giant clouds during days like these.

The rain was lovely and all, but it still was five in the morning.

He rolled over and snugged his face on the pillow, rubbing his cheek against it and sighed contently. The day had gone off to a beautiful pre-start.

* * *

><p>Hours after that, he took a pleasant and now-in-need-of warm shower, had a simple breakfast on his own and left for <em>Jim's.<em> Even as eager as he was to meet Kurt Hummel again –it still didn't feel entirely right to call him just Kurt- he _had_ other friends. Wonderful other friends.

"So, boys, what lies ahead, in this ethereal morn?" Nick imitated a Scottish accent when they all met inside, since it was still raining.

"There's not much we can do with this weather," Blaine said.

"Rain? This isn't rain, it's downpour, man," David whined, looking out the picture window to his left. He sighed heavily and with the elbow on the table, was about to rest his chin on the palm of his hand when he noticed his friend watching him. "What?" Nick raised his eyebrows with a condescending grin on his face. "Nick, for crying out loud, 'downpour' is not a weird word to use!" he exclaimed.

"If you say so, _slender_," he returned to his Coke with a smirk. "So, we're not doing anything today? We're just going to…" he placed the glass bottle back on the table and lied on the scarlet backrest. "Sit here all day?" he yawned noisily, causing David to glare at him slightly. "Oh, come on! Did I offend Mr. Purist?" he stared at him putting his hands on his chest causing the other to click his tongue and lift his eyes to the ceiling for a second before exhaling again and looking out the window.

"Bite me," was all he said creasing his forehead and drinking from his soda.

"Sorry to intrude into your married-couple-wise quarrel," Blaine stepped in still chuckling ."But I actually have plans for today," he said casually with a soft smile and playing with a napkin.

"Oh my God, I know that look, you so have a date!" Nick spat out, completely excited, slamming his fist loudly on the table, causing the bottles and glasses to bounce and clank against the table, attracting some eyes in their direction.

"What? No! No, no, I do not have a date," he shrieked, frowning and looking around wildly. His friends' eyes widened.

"Chill, Blaine," David patted his hand over the table. "It's fine," he teased.

"I'm leaving now," Blaine finished the conversation not giving time for Nick to begin a complete and new sarcastic mock. "Want to have dinner later, though?" he asked, as he stood up and drew a dime out of his pocket, tossing it gently on the table.

"Sure thing, six thirthy?" Nick returned.

"You know when _I'm_ hungry," Blaine gave him a nod and the clear eyed boy touched the tip of his beret in response.

"I'm glad we found him," David said after a moment with a fond smile appearing on the surface.

"Tell me about it," he took another sip of his bottle with a simpler smile, but an honest one, nonetheless.

"He makes it so much easier to bear with you," they both said at a time. They looked at each other before cracking up.

* * *

><p>He whistled <em>The Willows<em>' newest hit _The Church Bells May Ring_ and muttered some of the words as he walked, hands in pockets, the already-acquainted-with road to _Lima's Bookshop_. He had stopped by his place to grab a jacket since it was getting real chilly and Kurt's book, being careful about it not getting wet or ruined.

When he got there, he joyfully nodded to Mr. Beaster who returned the salute with a smile and a double take, stopping him on the foot of the stairs.

"Boy, let me give you a towel, you're soaking," he knit his bushy, white eyebrows together and disappeared into a room that seemed to be under the staircase. He popped up again from behind the wall with a cream colored towel. "We don't want you to catch a cold now, do we?" he asked, handing him the piece of material.

"Gee, thanks, Mr. Beaster," Blaine beamed as he tried to dry his head mostly. The little amount of gel he had put in his curls was now positively gone and he adorably frowned at this perspective. "Done, thanks," he repeated once more and gave him back the towel.

He danced his way up the stairs and was ready to find the other boy sitting in his usual armchair when he raised his eyes and found him instead trying to catch his reflex on one of the windows, tongue between teeth and fixing a lock of hair with a golden nuance into place.

"Goddammit," he moaned under his breath.

"It looks just fine," Blaine interfered, making the other boy jump and turn to look at him.

"I didn't know... you were here," he managed to mumble, all flustered.

"Your hair, I meant," he clarified.

"Yeah, I guessed you were talking about that. The rain didn't exactly melt my face," he gave him a look, before finally placing the tuft where it belonged, still not quite comfortable or sure about the free-and-easy attitude Blaine was proffering.

"_I'm pretty sure it would still look fine, too,_" Blaine nibbled his lip to stop himself from expressing his every thought out loud. His eyes trailed after the other boy walking past his seat and standing in front of him; he wasn't precisely near his face or anything, but it already felt physically too close for comfort for Blaine's opinion.

"My book?" he asked chewing on his lip adorably, this day way softer than the last time. It still looked like he was trying to hold in his bad temper and not to snap so much but if yesterday he had behaved like a hungry lion, today –so far, so good- he was nothing but a mild kitten.

Blaine stuck the blue book from under his jacket and handed it over to Kurt, who took it with that cautious, intrigued gaze of his.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he heard himself say, without knowing exactly where that had come from.

"Please, let's not talk about that again," Kurt pleaded, holding the book close to his chest and walking to the stack of books, to their left.

"I was a jerk," he insisted, following him with a pained expression.

"Were _you_?" he asked with a soft smile and raising a delicate eyebrow.

"Yes, I was," he replied, slightly gaping at his face. He nailed his gaze to the carpeted floor as he spoke. "Look, I know you probably think of me as a dumb attempt of a knight trying to rescue you-"

"I'm not a damsel to be rescued," he shook his head, vaguely and distantly offended, pretending he was looking for the spot where he usually kept his book, just not to look at Blaine in the eye. He had no idea why he caused that effect on him, but there was something in that kid's eyes that just drove him... nuts. And he was pretty sure it was in a bad way; he had been quite an asshole to him, he knew that, no doubt, even if he didn't regret it. And he had to admit, he was a handsome fella but the way he sometimes gawked and addressed to him made him feel both flattered and uneasy, mostly.

"Exactly," the other boy agreed hurriedly in a needy way.

After a pause of just staring at each other, Kurt's rather cold eyes mellowed into softer ones. "Why are you being so nice to me? I've been more of an ass than you have," he tilted his head sideways. Blaine swallowed.

"People are supposed to be nice," was everything he handled to say. Quite honest yet stupid. He was this close to saying _"besides, you seem to have it tougher than you think, so I want to help you,_" but it sounded pretty patronizing. It seemed his hopefully-soon-to-be friend didn't quite believe him, because his eyebrows gathered in the middle of his forehead and a smile spread.

"I guess you'll just tell me one of these days," he waved it away as he took Blaine's book out of his spot and Blaine's heart skipped a beat.

"So we'll see each other again?" he couldn't stop the words flying out his mouth fast enough, leading his hands to his chest when Kurt pressed, practically chucking it at him, Capote's novel against it, barely noticing the faint contact. He blanched, none the less, praying that Kurt had not heard that.

"Well, you _are_ in my bookshop," he only teased with another smirk before plopping down with his customary and natural elegance, still looking at him. Blaine tried to hide a grin, realizing Kurt wasn't really that nasty of a person after all.

"Right," they both giggled faintly and Kurt gave an up and down glance at Blaine.

"You can sit, you know?" he said after what felt like ages, eyes glued to the yellowish page. "You're seriously never going to get out of the title," he scoffed at him once more, in a still-not-so-quite friendly way. He ran to his seat, obeying Kurt.

"I think the reason I can't quite get through the first part is because-"

"We're always interrupting each other?" Kurt sent a hint, still reading which Blaine both took and giggled at but also got into a fascinated trance over the idea of doing _anything_ to each other.

"No, I…" he smacked himself back to Earth. "Because perhaps it's not the right book for me," he admitted. "I don't know if I'm that much into… such complicated, grim things," he shrugged.

Kurt dropped his hands and laid his beloved book on the little round table between them. Without a word, he stood up and vanished once more, though Blaine could still see him through the spaces left in between the bookshelves. To be more specific, it was his mouth he could see.

"Should I follow you, or…" Blaine started but Kurt shushed him with a playful smirk; that gorgeous smile of his with those seemingly perfect lips, all pink and pretty. He didn't even bother to try and reprimand these thoughts, because it was true.

He was pretty sure he liked boys but he had never thought of anyone that way. And there was a much higher teenaged population in New York than in Lima, but no… His mind was flying to places where the only boys in the room where him and Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel and his eyes and his lips and…

"You zone out really easily, don't you?" How had he not realized Kurt was back, standing right in front of him and that they were making, maybe too intense, eye contact? Blaine, obviously, absent mindedly, but Kurt was confused and turning a rosier color.

"Yeah, lot going on in my mind," he whispered, not expecting Kurt to respond with a "What about?"

They locked eyes again before Blaine chuckled nervously and looked immediately away. If he was going to be friends with Kurt –hell, if he was going to talk to him- he would have to be alert and watch those moments. Alright, he had never liked a boy that way before, but he had never imagined he would be fidgeting, daydreaming and blushing all the goddamn time. Besides, he didn't really know Kurt and even if the enchantment of the first time he had seen him was present, his personality was too complex and puzzling. And there he was again, not speaking. "_Say something, idiot!" _He yelled at his brain realizing Kurt's features were going from amused to worried.

"Nothing," he rubbed his eye. "Never mind," he slipped, biting his tongue. He also became aware of the book in his hands. "Huh… What is this?"

"_Swallows and Amazons_, by Arthur Ransome," he told him. "It was one of my favorite books as a kid," he smiled, full of melancholy.

"Did your father or mother read it to you, when you were a child?" Blaine asked, twirling it in his hands and exploring it as though it could start talking any moment. Kurt's smile froze and faltered a little when, for the second time, the word _mother_ came out of the dark haired boy's mouth. He knew answering was dangerous; if he said _yes_, it might lead up to more questions about his mother and he was _not _telling Blaine she was… Well, that she was no longer there.

On the other hand, telling him _no_ would also bring queries that he would have to lie about. "Kurt, it has a map!" he exclaimed, eyes broadening and giving the other boy a dazzling smile. "Is this fully illustrated?" he practically capered, going through the pages.

"I… I don't remember, I mean… It _is_ a book for children actually. Some say it's _Robinson Crusoe_ but for children," he tendered. "But I'm not sure," Blaine caught a glimpse of him for a second and returned to some of the drawn spots.

"I don't remember," Kurt repeated more to himself, starting to swirl deep into his own thoughts. He couldn't believe it, honestly, her mother had read him the entire collection once, at least. And they were lots of books, twelve, if he wasn't mistaken.

The boy facing him went from eager to panicky, frowning slightly "Kurt?" he hesitated. "Are you alright?"

There was no way he was really starting to forget her. Not after all these years… Right? He had been carving every single detail into his mind for eleven years now, her image was not about to fade away now. What if he needed her?

"Yes," he lied through his teeth, eyes away from Blaine.

Was he supposed to jot down all of the things he could think of about his mother in a notebook or something, since he obviously wasn't going to trust anyone with all those little random facts he so very much cherished? Nobody would even understand, nor care. He knew his father would, of course, but he didn't really want to haul all of his silly problems down onto him and confine him in an even more pronounced nostalgia. Not to mention, he really wanted someone _else_.

Sure, sleeping with lots of girls and having quite an amount of friends was awesome but Mercedes was too drawn into her own affairs sometimes –not that he complained about it or about herself. He loved her and they were best friends, but the only thing they really shared was their passion for music and performing. As to Rachel Berry, the very same went for her, only she sometimes comprehended more. She didn't have a mother as well, but she wasn't dead either; she was just living someplace else, working, so Rachel lived with her father and uncle. Sometimes, though, she understood the need of a maternal body and attitude in the house.

_"Stop it!"_ he told himself off, he was overreacting big time. Even if he was forgetting _some _details, it didn't mean she was vanishing.

Blaine didn't want to insist, scared that the progress they had made that day would just go away if Kurt snapped again, but he was truly distressed about the whole thing. Even more about the fact he couldn't do anything about it; it really was Kurt's personal thing, as he had explained the day before, but he still longed to make him feel good and smile for longer than ten crappy minutes.

"Do you want to go out with me?" It happened again. Words were coming out of his mouth without his permission yet again. And dear, had that line been wrong.

Kurt turned his eyes to him, this time fretful and shocked.

"What?" his piercing voice a little bit too loud. Blaine started waving his hands in the air, trying to look as misunderstood as possible.

"I-I meant as friends…" he clarified eyeing anxiously at the other boy, still taken completely aback.

"Oh," he sighed rubbing his chest "Huh… I don't know," he wrinkled his nose and shot a glance at his book.

"God, Kurt, I really didn't mean it _that _way," he swore with a desperate and apologetic look.

"Blaine, I know you didn't," he laughed it off now, more relaxed. And Blaine could've sworn a tingling sensation was spreading through his entire body. It was a simple thing he heard about twenty times a day, but listening to his own name coming out of _that_ mouth, slipping through _those_ lips, was beyond simply listening to his name.

It was Kurt saying his name, in the most tender and mellow way ever.

"I'm just not sure…" he assured him, scratching his forearm "I'll get you back on that one," he offered with a still amiable wink. What was going on? One moment he was a jumble of nerves, brows frowning and sharp comments and the second after that, he was a roller coaster of nostalgic happiness, longing and good manners.

"Alright," was all he came up with and he just zoomed out of the present, staring at the floor behind Kurt.

"Blaine?" Kurt hummed again, kindly smiling.

"Hmm?" he focused on his face, leaving the carpet alone.

"The book? You're seriously never going to start one," he reminded him, laughing and causing the same tickling sensation within Blaine's chest.

"Yeah, you're right," he said quietly and opened the book and gazed up again when Kurt spoke.

"I'll end up thinking you're only here to look at me," he smirked distractedly over the brim of his book before returning to his reading. Blaine's eyes widened more if possible, before pretending to be really interested in his own. And then _his_ words were the ones to be misinterpreted.

But Kurt was a teasing and mocking person like that. Right?

Right.

And to be fully honest, Blaine didn't really matter.

"I know you're not reading, I hope you know that," he insinuated not caring to avert his gaze.

"God… Damn it," he muttered under his breath and started reading, this time for real.

* * *

><p>Featured songs in this chapter: The Willows - The Church Bells May Ring (1956)<p>

I waited a week before updating this one and.. that's it, actually, I hope you like it guys :)

Please, please, please, PLEAAAAAAAASE, review. It helps me to know what you think, what should I do and such.

Besides, I've never gotten so far and so nicely in a fanfiction, this is my first "real" one. It'd be awesome if you could review and let me know what you think, what you want and such. I don't want to ruin it.

Looooooooots of love for all of you :)

3

[RVWD]

"but if yesterday he had behaved like a hungry lion, today –so far, so good- he was nothing but a mild kitten." HAHAHAHAHAH, why did I write that? And also, you can totally tell I'm all for making up adjectives, forming sentences. This chapter should be called "You-will-just-see-a-lot-of-these-adjectives new-and-recently-written lame-chapter for Walk The Line". Gee..


	9. Hummel Tire & Lube

Much to Walter Anderson's pleasure, the day had cleared out almost completely and the only leftovers from Sunday were a few clouds, scattered all over the place. Thank God the rain had stopped, otherwise how could he drive his new car? Still, some drunken moron, obviously, had made a little scratch on the passenger door on the second day. And he just couldn't allow showing off his car with that stupid mark, could he?

"Good morning, darling," he greeted his wife with a soft peck on the lips who turned her head from the counter.

"Good morning, honey, coffee?"

"Please," Mr. Anderson thanked as he sat down on the chair and unfolded that day's newspaper. In that exact moment his son came down, skipping the last two stairs, fresh and just out of the shower, hair still damp.

"Good morning, family," he sang with a cheerful smile as he let his eyes wander from his parents to his plate.

"Someone's in a good mood, today?" his mother beamed, making his son's own smile wider, walking to the table and putting down a plate with scones.

"Just got up on the right foot, I guess," he shrugged and reached out to the delicious smelling plate.

"How are you liking Lima, son?"

"I love it, dad, seriously," his eyes gleamed and his father smiled back. Blaine knew most of his friends, especially those with respectable, formal, strict parents referred to their fathers as "_sir_" but he had never had such a problem with his. He doubted he could ever call him "Walter", but "dad" was more than enough for both of them. "It's small but it's delightful," he took a sip of the coffee his mother had just poured for both of them. He chuckled under his breath, picturing Nick's reaction if he had been there just to hear him say "delightful".

"Glad you are having such a good time, honey," his mother hummed still standing next to him. He looked in her warm, bright eyes and hugged her around the waist, feeling like a five year old child. "And those friends of yours seem to be pretty kind," she patted his back.

"They really are, and hard working. They were the last ones to leave the other day at the construction," his father pointed out. Blaine's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened, his smile getting bigger and bigger by the second, before he pulled his cheek back from his mother's stomach: so apparently his parents were just fine with his friends.

"I'm... I'm really glad you like them," he told them both, overwhelmed and his voice wavering a bit. His mother tightened an arm around his shoulders and kissed his curls before going back to the counter and saying "Well, they _are_ your friends."

"You, of all people, couldn't go wrong when choosing the right people," Walter remarked and Blaine's heart wrenched in the most fantastic way, he was getting emotional and receiving too many compliments all of the sudden. "_Too early to tear up, Blaine, don't,_" he scolded himself. "I'm going to the garage today," his father continued, standing up. "Got to fix that little scratch," he shook his head, placing his empty cup near the sink.

"Where are you going, dad?" he asked, checking out the clock on the wall. It was exactly nine o'clock.

"To _Hummel Tire and Lube_, little place just a couple of blocks down from he— What?" he exclaimed when his son gasped gravely. His eyes looked like plates and he had covered his mouth with his hands. "What happened, Blaine?" his father repeated, frowning.

"Nothing, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he stumbled upon words, fumbling. Kurt's last name was Hummel and it was a tiny town, it had to… He licked his lips that were now very much dry as his mind raced. He was acting kind of stupidly, though "kind of" should've been replaced by "quite". He was being an idiot, even if it was Kurt's family who owned the place, what about it? He might not even be there. Was he just going to go running and force Kurt to talk to him, an aspect which was barely improving between them?

True, Kurt was now much softer with him, but he still doubted spending time with Blaine could be a dark, strong secret of his.

But then again, what did he have to lose?

"Hey, dad, can I come with you?" his face shot right up from his cup, looking for his father's eyes.

"Sure, son," he replied. "Are you positive you're fine?" he insisted.

Blaine only nodded with a hidden, secretive smile.

This day was turning out to be splendid.

* * *

><p>This day was turning out to be a living hell.<p>

"But, Kurt, we slept together," Sylvia said, following him hurriedly down the street.

The day was far too hot for him to be practically running with his long legs and trying to squirm out of the physically inexistent grip of some silly, needy, pathetic blond girl. He clenched his fists hanging to his sides and inhaled deeply, summoning as much patience as he could.

"So?" he spat out through gritted teeth still not looking at her.

"_So_?" she repeated. "So I think I deserve an explanation."

"We didn't get married, Sylvia, we just…" he rubbed his temple and closed his eyes, stopping when the girl stood in front of him and started to slid her hands up his chest, to curl them behind his neck.

"Marriage is not what I have in mind," she raised an eyebrow suggestively and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Look, Sylvia, we had a nice time but it was a thing of the moment," he sighed firmly and untangled her hands from the back of his head. "The magic's gone," he mocked her with an exaggeratedly fake excited expression and kept on walking.

On one hand, he knew he had been far too much of a jerk just now, but she was also such a pain in the ass.

Two more blocks and he slid the key in the hole and opened the front door. Finally: his house.

His first favorite place in the world, right before the library. It was so warm, so cozy, so familiar, so _theirs_. It really did reflect him and his family; in the wooden furniture, the happy pictures, the pleasant scent... Too bad the amiable and nice atmosphere wasn't as notable as it was before, when his mother was still around.

They really needed her, and in the past few days, when everything was feeling more complicated for Kurt, those exasperating feelings of lacking something –that something being clearly her presence- crawled right back and clang on to him, boring into his chest and leaving what felt like huge black holes, swallowing and disintegrating every sort of good feeling, turning them into dust. So yeah, no happiness for Kurt Hummel. At least, not for now.

"Kurt, need you in the shop. Can you come down?" his father's voice asked from the kitchen.

He froze where he stood on the stairs, on his way to the bathroom. He bit the inside of his lower lip to stop himself from spitting "_Well, I _was_ going to take a shower,_" to his dad.

And there he was again, feeling angry and wanting to snap, fierce and sarcastic.

How could he even feel bothered by his father? He was simply talking to him, nicely asking to help him out with his work and all he was selfishly thinking about was taking a shower and cool off, when his father, obviously couldn't afford to _relax_. Not that they didn't have money, after all, Burt's job wasn't exactly abundant, so pretty much everyone came to him, but still, thing weren't emotionally or mentally great at the Hummel's residence.

"Yeah, sure, dad," he answered cordially, hoping he sounded convincing enough.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later he was standing there, his back leaning against a table, legs crossed and staring at his nails.<p>

"Yeah, this needs some oil," his father's voice emerged in his thoughts from time to time, but left just as quickly, leaving room in his head to keep on thinking about some of his favorite musicals, just to keep calm. "Kurt, could you give me that wrench?" his son passed it to his greasy hand and left for the office, waiting for another customer to arrive.

"Good morning," an adult, low voice resonated slightly in the garage a moment after and Burt turned from where he stood analyzing some guy's motor.

"Mr. Anderson," at that, Kurt stopped staring at his nails and frowned. _Anderson?_ Sounded so familiar… Well, it was a common last name, but with no apparent reason Noah Beaster's voice echoed in his head, though he couldn't place the word in a particular, logical sentence. "How are you doing today, sir?" he took off his cap in a salute manner, getting a affable nod from the other man.

"Things couldn't be better," the man said. From the aside office, Kurt studied him through the glass, fighting to look beyond his own reflection in it. He didn't ring a bell at all, the curly black hair, he had a normal height and no he lacked any characteristic features that could be important or whatsoever.

"Getting used to Lima?" his father went on, getting back to the car he was working on before Mr. Anderson interrupted him. _"Getting used to Lima?"_ What? Perhaps he had just move—

He gasped loudly and straightened up. Fortunately, no one had heard him, so he proceeded to mutter little _"Oh my god, oh my god"_s under his breath.

So he was Blaine's father. The newbie's dad, no wonder Blaine had that admirable dark mass of hair on his head. He prayed he wouldn't become one of those regular customers at _Hummel Tires & Lube_.

"Hi," a, this time, familiar voice greeted happily, making Kurt jump in the air.

"God… Damn, Blaine," he rubbed his eyes, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth "Hi, hi, how are you?" he breathed. Why was it so hard to remain calm whenever someone talked to him?

"I'm great, how are you?" he asked, hand on his pockets and swaying on his feet.

"Why are you always so happy? Seriously? Don't you have any problems in your life?" he spilled, not quite snapping, but close enough.

"Gee, thanks," Blaine frowned but chuckled nonetheless. "What are you doing here?" he continued, oblivious to Kurt's frustration.

"I'm helping my dad with some stuff," he crossed arms across his chest.

"By hiding?" the other boy teased a bit, smirking and raising an eyebrow. Kurt blinked slowly and stared, bored, at him.

"I hide when I saw you coming," he shot back, a cool grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, hey, now, I thought we were friends now?" he joked again, but just partly. Kurt laughed, loud and shallow.

"Really, now? How come?" he snorted his eyebrows inches from meeting his hairline and a grin plastered on his face. Blaine mumbled a timid, still mocking "I don't know," making circles on the filthy floor with his right foot. "I don't recall hugging you or showing you any public display of affection," he grinned, still distant. "Or friendship, for that matter."

"You came to my house the other day," he suggested, hoping it wouldn't get Kurt mad at the memory of it. He thought he was doing quite well.

"Yeah, because you had my book," he clarified, laughing.

"Only friends borrow and lend books."

"You took it from me, I didn't exactly _lend_."

"Well, then I must be very comfortable to take something from _you_," the corner of his lip showing fake fear.

"From _me_?" he repeated, taking a hand to his chest and imitating Blaine's emphasize.

"From you," he nodded with a friendly, affirming smile.

"Should I be offended or something?" he placed a hand on the table to his left and the other on his waist.

"Unless you like scaring me off?" Blaine shrugged. "I don't know," he finished and they both laughed a bit more. "Had a good day, so far?" he continued after a pause, hopping on the table. He grabbed a rubber small ball lying on the table and started playing with it, sending it from hand to hand.

"Ugh, not really," he answered before he could stop himself. Still, Blaine's reaction didn't make him regret it. He raised his eyebrows and patted the place next to him with a barely noticeable grin. "I doubt that old, stinking table will support us both," he said suspiciously.

"I'll pay for it," Blaine tilted his head sideways and his smile grew encouragingly, leaving the ball behind him. Kurt snorted with a soft laugh and sat gingerly on it. "So, what happened?"

"Not much, really, but I had to wake up early and go to a friend's house to help her decide something for a date tonight and then I ran into…" he sighed. "A girl. And she was a pill for a while but then I just… blew her off," he admitted, gaze lost in a dingy spot on the wall. He had regretted being so rude to Sylvia and he was starting to hate the fact that he couldn't actually control his temper, but he was not about to come off as some vulnerable, weak person. So, he omitted telling that part to Blaine. He turned his head to find the other kid frowning a bit. "Nothing important or big, just… I'm in a really bad mood," he finished shaking his head and fixing his eyes on the floor before them. Blaine's eyes lit up faintly and he gripped onto the rim of the table, swaying his legs quietly.

"You don't seem to be in a bad mood right now," he dared to mention, glancing at Kurt who froze but relaxed two seconds later.

"Yeah, you're right," he whispered more to himself than to Blaine. A soft smile grew on his face, making that sort of stubbles on his cheeks that he had only recently noticed. He shook it off and cleared his throat, averting his gaze to the wall to his right, so that the curly haired boy could only see the back of his head.

"So, want to go for a drink or something?" he asked. Kurt, visibly flustered, turned around with light suspicion and doubt in his eyes.

"I dunno," he bit his lip, suddenly closing again.

"Come on," he purred, bumping shoulders with Kurt who just glared at him. "Look," he called. "We go out now –_asfriendsKurtyouknowthat-_," he fumbled quickly, when the other boy gaped as to interrupt him. When he closed his mouth, Blaine continued. "Today, we go out today, and if you don't feel comfortable or don't have a good time, we'll just stick to our routine at _Lima's_," he wrapped up his idea quite satisfied with it and a hopeful glow in his eyes.

"Okay, fine," Kurt agreed, making Blaine smile much broader than he should. He energetically got off the table and held out a hand for Kurt to grab even if his feet were inches away from the floor. He raised an eyebrow and hesitated before getting up without even brushing Blaine's body and walking out the door of the office.

The boy stood there, still holding his hand out to the air and had to bite the inside of his cheek in order to avoid the huge relief creeping out of his throat and trying to form into a smile.

* * *

><p>This really is shorter than the ones I've been writing lately but I just felt like writing and went ahead, and we're leaving for a New Year's reunion in a couple of hours. But I still wanted to upload this.<p>

The next chapter will be the continuation of this, like, their """"""""date"""""""", though they really aren't in one. But well.

I really thought I wouldn't like this, but I actually do. How it's going and all, I don't know. But it's important that you like it too, so… Please, guys, review? Tell me what you think about it and spread the word if you want to *exaggerated wink*. Yep?

Happy Holidays! Looooooooots of love for all of you.

Hope you like it :)


	10. Confusing and Booths

"So, where shall we go?" Blaine asked fighting himself from bouncing up and down as they stepped out of the workshop.

"I have no idea," Kurt sighed. A sudden breeze fluttered his hair back and brushed his cheekbones as the sun continued to spread heat all over the place.

"I know a place called _Jim's_, we could go there, it's pretty cool and—"

"Yeah, I know it," he perfunctorily cut the enthusiastic kid.

"Oh…" he jerked his head lightly. "Do you go there?"

"Not really. But I've seen your little friends hanging out there more than once," a light hue of contempt.

"What, Nick and David?" he frowned in thought, turning his head.

"What, you got a lot of friends?" he snorted once more and directed his gaze to Blaine just to see him cringe. Kurt moped lightly at his own rudeness but kept on walking, trying to lift his chin but failing miserably at it and focusing on the street. "But no, I don't go there," he spoke up casually and trying to steer the conversation away from his crudeness.

"Well, do you know someplace else?" Blaine asked in return, voice a little hoarse. He cleared his throat.

"We can go there if you want to," he offered feigning polite indifference. "Is not like your friends infected the place or anything," he teased with an extravagant shrug and ended with a smirk to assure Blaine he wasn't serious. Completely serious, at least. The latter chuckled, evident hurt still in his eyes, but not angry. No, Blaine seemed the kind of person who would never lose his nerves or snap at anyone, very much unlike Kurt. That assumption was what made him wonder about how Blaine could ever get along with someone like him and _why_, oh, _why_ would he ever attempt to befriend him.

"Are you mad?" Kurt asked gingerly. Despite his statement and the fact that he didn't exactly _love_ his reading-buddy's friends, he could feel a stab of guilt in his chest. Blaine raised his gaze off the floor to bore into Kurt's eyes and smiled softly.

"Nah, 'm not mad," he answered after a moment and went back to scrutinizing the street. It wasn't anger or anything what made his stomach tighten, but the fact that Kurt didn't like his friends, which felt more like disappointment. What was wrong about Nick and David? They were both cool and funny and nice people and they had friends of their own so it wasn't like they were known as the losers of town.

After a couple of silent minutes, they got to Pointstrat Avenue and he held the door open for Kurt who gave him a skeptic eye roll and strolled in, leaving a satisfied Blaine with a perky grin.

They took place to the left, contrary to the direction in which Blaine's usual booth was. The silence remained for the next few minutes as they read their menus –Blaine peeking over his to admire Kurt's subtle tongue running his lower lip, tucking it in a little, from side to side, highly concentrated and how inhumanly smooth and soft his skin looked- but thankfully it wasn't uncomfortable at all and he found it quite refreshing, not having to talk to fill every gap.

"Good morning, what can I get you?" an unfamiliar waitress appeared on their table, looking down at a small notepad though she smiled with a surprised air when she noticed him. "Oh, hi, Blaine, fancy seeing you here," she greeted happily. "Not with Nick and David today, are you?"

"Nope, not today," he shook his head. Linda wasn't the usual girl who took their orders but Blaine knew her, too and remembered her name, mostly because it was his mother's too.

"Yeah, well, sometimes even I need a break from those two, what do you guys want?"

"I'll just have a Coke," Linda turned to Kurt, still jotting Blaine's order down.

"Strawberry milkshake," he decided with a charming smile and it surprised Blaine not to find any mockery in his voice.

"Coming right up," she took the two menus from their hands and left.

"She your _girlfriend_?" he asked with a slight teasing tone. "_And it is back,_" Blaine thought.

To Kurt, it was obvious that she wasn't, since Blaine didn't really look like he was one to care for dating. It was also probable that Blaine had issues. Yes, cause people just didn't stare at Kurt like that. Of course, people did ogle and eye him up and down, in all sorts of ways and with all kinds of intentions but there was something in this particular kid that threw him off whenever he tried to unveil his expression or find the words to describe what he found in his regard.

Kurt's query, however, threw _Blaine_ off. With all the remarks regarding his bowties and retorts about his staring, he was positive Kurt had convinced himself he was his not-so-secret admirer or something.

By the looks of it, he hadn't. A knot he didn't know he had in his stomach relaxed: one step closer to hiding his secret even deeper and, hopefully, keeping Kurt around for a while, without scaring the hell out of him.

What would be Kurt's reaction to finding out Blaine didn't exactly fancy girls? And more precisely, fancied one boy in particular.

The discomfort settled back in.

"No, we're not even friends, actually," he shrugged. "I just talk to her when we're here and we… order, you know?" he admitted. Kurt gave an uncertain nod and started playing with his long fingers.

"So, where are you from?" he asked then, locking his wide, curious eyes with Blaine's.

"New York," he said and he was almost positive a glimmer flashed all over Kurt's face.

"Ugh, you're so lucky," he muttered. "If I could ever get out of this pigpen, I'd definitely go there."

"Really? To do what?" Kurt eyed him carefully as if with suspicion.

"I don't know, something," he sighed finally.

"You can do _something_ here, too."

"Believe me, it can't be done," he let out, flat and the shine from an instant ago transformed into deception.

"You will get out of here," Blaine encouraged him quietly an instant later and Kurt glared at him with a scornful grin.

"Right," he kept on gliding the tip of his right fingers over the back of his other hand.

"Come on, Kurt," he laughed calmly. "You know better than anyone that you're... different."

"I don't know if 'different' is the word since I'm like everyone else," he simpered quietly. "Only better."

"You sure _are_ better than most of them," Blaine reaffirmed with a kind smile. Kurt blinked, at a loss for words and limited to mouth a carefully timid "_Thank you_".

"Here you go, guys," Linda came back with a silver tray and put down their drinks on the shiny table.

"Thanks," they both uttered. Blaine took the glass in his hand to take a sip when he noticed Kurt was still staring from under his eyelashes at him. When they locked eyes, he blinked and averted his gaze to his hands.

"Ho—" he began.

"Hey, Blaine! How are you, my dear friend?" a boy with brown hair popped out of thin air, his hand on the back of a pretty girl with bangs so blonde they were almost white and a bulky, knee-length dress, white with hot pink polka dots that matched her headband. They were both beaming at him as the keen kid placed his right hand on their table, slightly turning his back on Kurt, who looked frustrated. "Haven't seen you in a while, going to Wednesday's dance?" he bobbed his head, cheeks red from all the smiling.

"Huh, hi Sandy," he laughed quietly, forcing himself to summon every ounce of politeness in his body. "I had no idea, actually…" wrinkles forming in his forehead.

"Oh, you should totally go!" he bellylaughed raising his eyebrows. "It's going to be superb!" he went on snorting a bit as he laughed once more, wholehearted and kind of lame. Kurt opened his eyes in disbelief, shaking his head and gaped at Blaine, who bit his lip and covered his mouth to hold back a laugh. Sandy followed his gaze still showing his teeth and when he saw Kurt he retrieved his hand from the table and straightened up a bit. "Well, well, well, if it isn't one Kurt Hummel!" both hands went to his waist, into fists. He gave a lopsided smile and looked around. "How are you, Kurt?" he asked again.

"Oh, I'm superb, Sandy," he lazily mocked him with a false grin, enough for Blaine to only notice.

"Are _you_ going to Wednesday's dance?" he leaned into the table again, propping on his wrist still with an extravagant, toothy smile. "It _is_ going to be superb!" Kurt couldn't help to snort this time.

"You can bet we'll be there, Sands," Blaine stepped in before _anyone_ could make more of a fool out of Sandy himself.

"Why, aren't those joyous news to hear!" he sang again regaining his posture and putting an arm around the blonde girl's waist. "See you around, fellas!" he did kind of a military salute and laughed openly, locking eyes with the girl, next, who was inexplicably snickering in return. They waved in unison and started walking to their right.

"The guy is like a cartoon, coming out of a toothpaste advertisement or something," Kurt leaned serious over the table once he was gone.

"He's not that bad," Blaine tried not to give in and laugh. The other boy parted his lips searching for something coherent to say and narrowed his eyes, but reclined back on his seat in defeat. The hazel eyed boy opened his mouth to steer the conversation back in place, in hope of returning it to the exact moment when Kurt was about to say something, before the other spoke again.

"No wonder everybody likes you so much, you're far too nice," he played with his fingers, eyes on them and raising his eyebrows. As much as Blaine _really_ wanted to know, he couldn't help to be taken aback, shooting his eyebrows straight up.

"How do you know that?" and wasn't surprised when, for the tenth time in the day, he heard Kurt snorting in impatient disbelief and superiority.

"Are you serious?" he tilted his head. "Everybody is going on and on and on about 'that newbie that's not very tall but compensates it with his ways, and have you seen those big eyes? So dreamy, and good Lord, his tousled hair is so nice I just want to touch it and', ugh..." he said in a fake, high pitched tone, as in quoting someone else. "Just… please, you're a crowd pleaser yourself, Blaine," he snickered taking another sip from his drink.

"Do _you_ think I'm nice?" he offered half heartedly and slowly.

"Nice? Sure," Kurt quirked an eyebrow and fixed his eyes on Blaine's, not making a big deal out of it. "You're the epitome of nice and polite and… charming," he shook his head, still with a derisive aim.

"So… you_ like_ me?" he tried again, assuming more than asking, in what he knew was somewhat of a flirting way, never taking his eyes off Kurt, intently watching his reaction. He couldn't spot anything but a vague pout.

"You're nice, that doesn't mean I like you. It can be positive and whatever but it can be just as negative. Nice people are usually boring," he explained as he scratched his face and grabbed a napkin, pressing it on the table, to dry off the circles of water around his glass, increasing the ball of nerves that was Blaine by never looking at him. "Though I'm still on the fence about the whole thing," he lifted his chin lightly and wrapped his mouth around the straw, obliging Blaine to look away at once. "You're nice but I have yet to find if the rule applies and you're boring too," he swallowed and pouted in thought.

"Am not," he scoffed, exaggerating an offended frown in a teasing way.

"Ah-ah-ah," Kurt interrupted with a finger and warning eyebrows, raising. "That's up to me to decide," and after a pause, Blaine could've sworn he saw the tiniest of the smiles, which he returned with an amplified and much obvious one.

"Do you even know them?" he glanced back when he retrieved and laid his back on the red, shiny leather.

"Who?"

"Nick and David," Blaine said without blinking.

"Oh... Huh…" he clicked his tongue. "No. I don't quite intend to," he sang and continued to slide his long fingers up and down the cold, tarnished glass, leaving an opaque and darker trail.

"Why not? They're all kinds of awesome," he frowned, a smile spreading on his face.

"Yeah, well, they're your friends," he pointed out, striking the argument immediately as if with a bat, far away.

"I think you could easily get along," he shrugged, more eager than he was supposed to be. Why did the notion of Kurt and his two new best friends actually _liking_ each other was so important to him?

Why the sudden vision of the four of them hanging out at Jim's was so appealing and why the picture in his head included his arm around Kurt's shoulders or in a nearer, more probable –he belittlingly snorted within- future, stealing subtle glances from one another and fingers quietly brushing under the table?

Unfortunately, it was all very surreal: that wasn't him, he was not that person. He could never come out to his friends and to Kurt or just tell the world in such an open way he could just touch him –he cringed- that way, in front of David and Nick as if it was the most natural thing ever. Nope. Well, now _that_ sucked.

"Why? Why should we even try and get along?" he clearly wasn't having the same vision. In fact, it looked like he didn't want anything to do with it.

"Because the three of you are great," Blaine replied simply.

Kurt quirked an eyebrow impossibly near to his hairline. He looked so much very, very surprised.

"You think I'm great?" the words came out with a color in his voice that made Blaine think the boy across the table had just discovered he was actually a perverted, creepy stalker, as he led a hand to his chest. And the expression on his twisted features could have easily been decoded as disgusted if it weren't for the utter and striking confusion in them.

"Well, I did invite you to have a drink," he glanced sideways, deadpanned though a second away from smiling at Kurt's reaction.

"I've been an ass," Kurt squinted a bit, a few light blue veins becoming slightly more noticeable beneath the translucent skin of his eyelids. "Like... a complete jerk."

"I think we've been through this already," Blaine chuckled under his breath. "You have been… unfriendly, but we're still talking, what's the big deal?" he tried to wave it away. He didn't want to confirm Kurt he _liked_ him, even as friends, and that conversation could have easily been twisted down that path any moment now. There was a moment of silence, though, and Blaine thought Kurt was going to insist on the subject, but thankfully...

"Wow, must be my lucky day," he snorted and leaned forward to catch the straw between his lips. Blaine easily slapped his mind away from staring and providing Kurt a definitive and even more obvious reason to think he _was_ in fact, a creep. Why did that keep happening to him? It seemed every time Kurt did something with his lips other than talking, he was suddenly mesmerized. Well, it was silly. Silly and hormonal and he couldn't help but feel invading, just contemplating at his mouth, though not with lust but with a thoughtful gaze. So, in his defense, it wasn't that creepy.

Because after Kurt had become somewhat more human towards Blaine and appeared now to be so much more reachable and not as distant, Blaine could feel the puzzle pieces of the thick wall, under which the real Kurt was concealed, starting to fall apart. And hopefully, in only a matter of weeks, he'd be freed from it. Because Blaine knew that Kurt Hummel wasn't really the teenager he was now and that he had probably been for a long time already, there was something about him screaming that everything was not okay, never mind what he said out loud.

For a second, the sound that camefrom the street became louder until the farthest and opposite of him door was closed again.

"It might be and then again it might be not," Blaine mumbled amused, but worried in the same measure.

"What?" Kurt looked up with a frown and a hesitant smile. He watched the boy bite his lip and nod towards the door. When he scooped around, he could see a not so tall guy wearing a beret with a cheeky, amiable grin and an Afro-American guy with a similar accessory on his faintly haired head with a way less conceited ambiance. "You have got to be kidding me…" he uttered, slamming his hand on the table before turning his head to Blaine with a cold, murdering look. "Did you know they were coming?" Blaine frowned.

"Wha- No, no, no! I swear I had no idea," he hurried, shaking his hands.

"Yes, you did, you told them to come," he continued, convinced what he was saying was true.

"What? No, that's absurd, I didn't!" when Kurt stared at him with the same face as before –even though, this time he look much more bewildered and there was now clear _loathing_ in his face. Blaine wanted to squirm only under the fiercely intimidating look. "Look, you don't have to stay if you don't want to-"

"You're damn right I don't want to! And I won't!" Blaine decided to ignore those words and approach calmly. Kurt still had his torso slightly twisted back, one hand in the back of the seat, the other on the border of the table, but facing Blaine with the most glacial expression ever, his nostrils flaring and teeth gritted.

"But please, would you mind giving it a try? It'd be really nice if-"

"What? No, no way," he cut in shock. "Besides, why would I?" he sneered, cruelly, absolutely no mocking smile in sight. There was a sad pause.

"For me?" he whispered with too much hope in his eyes. And when Kurt narrowed his further and bored into them with appalled and extreme pity, he frowned and felt more embarrassed than ever. "I thought we were friends," Blaine said with his relaxed glistening honey eyes reflecting the stupidly unexpected disappointment. He averted his gaze when he heard Kurt's voice speaking again.

"Well, you thought wrong," he derided again, this time more hesitantly and lowering his voice but with a snide note nonetheless, and strutting away from the booth to his right and out the closest door, without looking back afterwards.

Blaine sat there, lips parted, faintly squinting and frowning ever so slightly. His hands were resting dead on his lap as he blinked, annoyed and confused. What the hell had just happened? He hadn't done anything, anything wrong at all and now he was alone. It was all going so well and it had ended so abruptly and in such an inexplicably… confusing way. He realized things with Kurt and Kurt alone usually seemed to be this confusing. Perhaps a little bit too much for his own liking. Not two seconds afterwards he was hearing Nick and David's voice drawing nearer, probably talking to him, until he felt a hand patting his shoulder and back as he steered his eyes away from the window, focusing on his friends, who were now standing next to him.

"What was Hummel doing here?" David asked, frowning a bit.

"I don't know," he muttered miserably, fixing his eyes back on the thick glass, through which he could see the clouds starting to swirl in the sky, spreading and painting it white. His friends exchanged glances.

"Are you alright, bud?" he continued as he slid in the seat opposite to Blaine, after Nick.

"Yeah, sure," he replied almost automatically not wasting one second. "Hey guys, have you ever like… talked to him?" he looked at them.

"What, Kurt?" the same talked.

"Where's the waitress?" Nick asked, a hesitant hand about to wave in the air.

"Yeah," Blaine gave a dry nod.

"Why are we even sitting here, anyway?" his other friend began to twist his torso in all directions, still ignored.

"We've talked but nothing ever _happened_, like… We used to… talk, just… Talk, we weren't best friends but we got along. He was always kind of conceited," he admitted with something that sounded strangely like an affectionate chuckle. "But we're used to that, aren't we?" he turned to Nick jokingly and patted his back.

"This isn't our booth," the other one continued, oblivious to their chat, scanning the room with his squinting clear eyes and holding onto the silver rim of the table. David frowned and Blaine raised his eyebrows in amusement. His mouth was barely opened while he continued to look around, at the moment, past Blaine's head. "This isn't our tabl—Oh, oh-ho-ho," his face transfigured into condescending contemptuousness, as he laughed with a dangerous dishonesty and shook his head softly.

"Anyway, so he was always like that?" Blaine picked up the conversation, taking his eyes off Nick.

"Anyway," David agreed. "No, he wasn't always like that. I mean, very… sure about himself, not the thing with the girls, though. That's been going for a year or so," David considered, stroking his chin.

"No, he did not," Nick continued to be unheard in the background.

"So he wasn't always like this or…" Blaine started, gesturing with his hand. "Sorry, I'm getting confused."

"Ever since we became teenagers, if you want to put it that way, yes, he has always been conceited and snarky, yet socially successful. Don't ask me how, I have no idea," he began to explain once again. "But this is a small town, you know that, and I used to go to kindergarten with him and he was the nicest kid ever, so…" he trailed off with a soft shrug.

"Huh," Blaine's eyebrows went up for a second in calm surprise. It wasn't a lot of information to take in, but it was certainly interesting.

"Yeah, I don't know what happened," he nodded blankly staring into nothingness.

"Who does he think he is?" he slammed his hand on the table quietly.

"Okay, what on Earth are you even talking about?" David gave in and turned to his friend.

"That stupid Sandy Ryggory is sitting at our booth," he shook his head. "_Our_ booth! I can't believe it, can you believe it?" he scoffed, baffled. This time it was David that shook his head, squinting at his friend trying to comprehend how his head worked. "Yeah," Nick exhaled shortly, totally misunderstanding David's response. Blaine was chuckling when he recalled.

"Hey, guys, are you going to this Wednesday's dance?" he asked and it seemed interesting enough to Nick cause his head all but snapped in his direction with a satisfied grin spreading on his face.

"Well, why, look who's coming around! Way to go, triangles, taking initiative and talking about going to parties and such," he reached out over the table and tapped his arm, proud before sitting again and pointing at him with an impish smirk. "You, naughty boy."

"What is wrong with you today?" Blaine frowned and Nick's smile fell as David shook with silent laughter.

"What you meant is 'are _we_ going to the dance', Blaine," the least weird of his friends corrected him.

"Right," he nodded.

"You're with us too, now," he half-joked as if he was explaining something to a five year old.

"Right, sure," he bit his lip gratefully and kind of bashful. He was pretty sure he was blushing. "Thanks," he had no idea where it came from but every time David said something implying their new friendship and sort of stating it and the fact they were actually friends who had grown to like him that fast, he would melt into an emotional mess.

"I don't like this table," their other friend said. David exhaled, rattled.

"Oh my God… Nick!" he let out in an exasperated huff.

"What? It's not our regular booth, I'm not comfortable with this," he crossed his arms with an adamant shrug.

"What are you even talking about? You're not comf—"

"Yes, it's betrayal," he explained simply and calmed. Blaine continued to stay back and stare, as he always did, the happy laughter bubbling in his stomach, ready to erupt from his throat any minute now.

"What?" David's word was so sharp, it was palpable as it shot out of his mouth and cut the air like a blade.

"We're cheating on our booth."

"We are not- You can't even cheat on a fucking table, Nick, what are you talking ab—"

"And that waitress?" his index finger did circles in the air as it flew to David's chest and nudged it. "I don't like her, either."

"I hate you," David stated deadpanned and continued to repeat while Blaine started to laugh out loud, unable to hold it in any longer. "I hate you, I swear to God, I hate you—"

"She's not Amy! And she hasn't even taken my order yet," he proceeded stubborn and folding his arms again.

"Dude, you're an idiot," David moving his head side to side.

"Oh, but you love it," his face changed to a mischievous, convinced smile.

"No, I do not. I swear to God I do not," he guaranteed with high eyebrows.

"You wish. Look at Blaine, he's pissing," he pointed at his friend with his chin.

"No, am not," he put himself together in his seat with a little grin.

"Yeah, you do," Nick's identical gesture grew impossibly until his cheek hurt, prolonging the words and humming the sounds in such a teasing way he was almost savoring them. "So, are we going to the dance?"

"I can't," David sighed, visibly relieved it was finally over.

"Yeah, you can," Nick muttered, Blaine's Coke bottle making circles in its place between his fingers.

"Oh my God, enough already!" they both began to chuckle uncontrollably when David nearly yelled.

"You know you love it," Nick deflated trying to keep it low, but his voice got higher towards the end of the sentence, letting the laughter come out again.

"Alright, that is it," he slid off the booth.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I swea—" he laid across the plastic seat, but David had already walked out of his reach. "Come on, honey, don't leave," Nick turned around on his seat, following his friend with his gaze. David bit his lip to stop himself from smiling and silenced him with his hand before walking out the door. Nick turned around, laughing and winked at Blaine in complicity, who was clutching at his stomach trying to catch air.

"I feel sorry for him," Blaine admitted, still beaming.

"Nah, he'll be alright. After all, he is living in my house, he's used to it," he closed his eyes for a second and waved his hand in the air, triumphantly, tightly smiling at the waitress. Blaine laughed once more and noticed the annoyance from before was far gone. And strangely, it didn't come back as strongly as he thought it obviously would when his mind flew to _that_ place.

While Nick talked to the waitress, Blaine mulled over Kurt and his friends. Seriously, how could he not like them? He was sure if he had just been there, he would've enjoyed himself as much as Blaine had; they were hilarious and the friendliest people he had ever met. Not that back in New York he was brimming with friends, but he was positive not everyone was as nice as them.

"Why can't he go to the dance?" Blaine asked after Linda left once more, thankfully, he noticed, without any trace of anger in her face. And that was one of the things Blaine liked so much about Nick, he wasn't a douche; perhaps he was conceited and too honest from time to time, but he wasn't a bad person. Not nearly.

"No idea, you'll have to ask him tomorrow," he shrugged. They stayed quiet for a second. "Ugh, I swear to God, that Sandy guy is such a pain in the ass," he rolled his eyes and the skin around Blaine's eyes crinkled when he laughed again. "Besides, the guy is so ridiculous, have you heard him talk?"

"Yeah, he's just… really enthusiastic and… energetic," he offered as politely as possible.

"No, he's an idiot. You're just too nice to admit it, but I bet the guy is high all the time. Dr-ugged," he spelled with emphasis. "On speed, all day long, I tell you," he continued to mutter under his breath, tapping his fingers on his thigh under the table. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absently staring at Sandy, still sitting at their usual booth. "Just like a freaking cartoon or something," he dropped his shoulders.

Blaine closed his eyes and smiled.

* * *

><p><em>Just so you know, I am trying to keep up a kind of "calendar". Ch 8 starts with "It was 5:00 am on a Sunday" or something like that, the ninth happens the day after that, so on a Monday and this is a continuation of it, so it's still that same Monday, just a couple of minutes later. Not every chapter will be one day necessarily, it might be less than a day or two or whatever.<em>

_It was so fucking fun to write Sandy, seriously, I just picture him like Cedric Diggory in AVPM and one of those typical guys from the sixties._

_By the way,_

_**I don't even know what I'm doing.**_

_**So help me out here**? I'm in this state in which I just write without thinking much, not with trivial things but with the storyline too._

_Do you think this chapter, for example, is good? As in, is it good for the writing that I write like this, just letting go? Based on this chapter, did you like it or do you think there are things that don't make sense and that are unnecessary and that I should wait to… I don't know._

_See?_

_Right now, for example, I don't know what I'm doing, **can you tell me if you liked this chapter or not? Pretty please?**_

_Still, hope you like it and really, tell me what I should change. I know not a LOT happens, but they are short and I am trying to update I just take so much time sometimes cause the inspiration doesn't come all the time, so... But I'm now reading a Charles Dickens book and it's coming, slowly so yay :)_

_Anyway, it's not like this is Go Your Own Way (GO READ IT NOW, IF YOU HAVEN'T) or Little Numbers (SAME), so you're not waiting on the edge of your sit for me to update (which I totally am with those two fics, among many many others)._

**_But seriously, tell me what you think I should change and such, pleaaaaase._**

_Adieu :)_

_PS: my tumblr is .tumblr .com if you want it. The Walk The Line tag has some fanart if you don't want to watch it on deviantart or whatever._


	11. Hush

The wind was still whistling outside, swirling and hitting the window. No sun beams shining through the window yet.

For a change.

Kurt had no idea what was wrong with the weather, but summers in Lima tended to be warm and yes, wet, but not _this_ wet. It was being too cool and damp for him to be happy about it. For example, right now he was lying in his bed with eyes still closed and instead of pulling the sheets aside and feeling sticky and hot, he was tugging at them and wrapping himself, holding them close to his chest. He turned sideways and ended with the mouth twisted and open against the pillow, the skin of his stomach touching the also cool mattress. His eyelids were heavy and demanded to stay closed, a plea he almost gave in to, if it weren't because he saw it was eleven in the morning already. He groaned and turned around again, freeing himself from the linen in a brusque movement.

After a refreshing, forty minute shower in the bathroom and a twenty minute daily session of going through his wardrobe, he went down the stairs, hearing two familiar voices as he walked closer to the kitchen.

"Fortunately, I'll be gone to some place where my talents are not wasted. Lima is too small for them," he could sense a handful of pride and certainty in the melodic voice of his friend. The back of her dark hair was all he saw before the words flew out of his mouth, stepping into the room.

"It's too small for your ego too, so…" he crossed his arms, resting his shoulder against the doorway. She turned around in the chair and clutched at the back of it as the brightest of smiles appeared in it. Kurt replied with a fainter one as Rachel stood up and ran to hug him. He laughed and patted her back under the glare of his father. "What? She knows she's conceited," he shrugged as Rachel pulled away keeping her right arm around his back.

"And we know you are, too," she sang, bopping his nose with her finger.

"Being what we are, how can we not be conceited, Rachel?" they both smiled.

"Anyway, kiddo, I'll be at the garage if you need anything," he shook his head with a loving chuckle.

"Okay, dad."

"Goodbye, Mr. Hummel," Burt nodded at the two of them with a tight smile as they took seats in next to the circular, small table in the middle of the kitchen.

"How long have you been here? I was asleep."

"Yeah, I know, I came and started screaming towards your window very _a la_ Shakespeare: I basically started reciting a couple of verses in song, as Romeo, but…" she sighed with a longing air without losing an ounce of satisfaction about it. "Your father saw me, well –heard me, actually- and told me to come in, something about I was probably disturbing the dogs, anyway, so…" she trailed off as they looked at each other with soft smiles. Stubbles appeared in her cheeks as she grinned wider and rested a side of her face on her fist, elbow up on the table. "What about you? How have you been?" she nodded seriously, causing Kurt to snort.

"Rachel, it's been four days," he replied lazily. "I've been fine."

"Oh my God, why would you lie to me?" she asked with a theatrical tint of dismay in her voice.

"Okay, how do you do that?" Kurt knew there was no case in trying to convince her otherwise. He had no idea how she did it but every single time he attempted to hide something in the least, she would unveil his intentions right away.

"Natural gift," she shrugged with a bubbly smile adorning her red lips, looking up and batting her eyelashes distractedly. She looked back at him and smiled again. "Just like my artistic ones."

"If being short is a talent then you might be another Debbie Reynolds, she is just as tiny," he teased and she puckered her lips.

"As long as I get to do a movie with Gene and Donald," she purred smugly.

"Rachel!" he said through a scandalized laughter. "I'm assuming things didn't go very well with Finn, otherwise you wouldn't be saying so."

"Things went swell with Finn, he's splendid," she grinned meekly. "I think I really like him," a hint of a smitten glimmer flashed across her face as she averted her gaze.

"Lovely, then I'm guessing you two will be going out again?" he spread his arm across the table, resting his head on the palm of his hand still sluggishly.

"Probably, it's up to him, he has to invite _me_ again," she pushed her hair over her shoulder so it formed a cascade of straight, shiny almost black hair, sliding down her back.

"And what about your father? Is he okay with you dating a giant?" he continued. "You being so short… Your children genes will be so conflicted as to which DNA to listen you will probably explode," he pursed his lips. Rachel rolled her eyes and opened her mouth but her friend was ahead of her. "Yes, I am done."

"Yes, well, mother knew him before she left, when he was really young, it seems her and Finn's mom were acquaintances, so she will be okay with it and father doesn't –know him, that is-, but he's not too worried," she moved to fold her arms resting them on the table and pressing her lips to her forearm.

"And your uncle has a saying in this?" he asked as he watched her search for a comfortable pose.

"Hardly," she lifted her mouth to stop the sound from drowning. He gave a sideways smile and closed his eyes. He was still so tired. Maybe, if Rachel left early, he could still grab some sleep. Why _was_ he so tired, anyway? "Kurt," she tried to catch his attention. He hummed softly in response, eyelids still concealing his gaze. "What's wrong?" she tried again.

"Nothing's wrong, Rachel," he sighed, this time making a bigger effort to keep his eyes shut. "Right now I'm just really tired."

"You keep saying that but I don't buy it, and you know I don't," she added immediately, anticipating any effort from Kurt to avoid the discussion. "And you also know you don't have to tell me anything, but maybe you should have someone to talk about it. Someone you can trust wholeheartedly and always, you know?"

"There's really nothing to talk about," he reassured her.

"Gee, what is it that has got you so closed up?" she mirrored his position, frowning and studying his face, searching for any secret she could find in it.

"Rach, drop it," he warned finally opening his eyes and quirking an eyebrow. Her uneasy stare remained but either way she stopped talking about it.

"I should go, anyway, I only dropped by to say hello because I hadn't seen you in a few days," she explained, straightening her black skirt. "See you tomorrow?" she added hopefully as they stood up.

"Sure," he gave her a small smile and she imitated the gesture with overwhelming gratitude in her eyes before throwing herself at his arms and hugging him tightly. "Rachel, geez, we really saw each other last week," he joked sweetly, squeezing back nonetheless.

"It's just really good to see you again, Kurt," she whispered to his ear in a solemn way that made Kurt feel concerned himself. Was he really that bad and he couldn't even see it? Did Rachel really notice how much of a wreck he was while he didn't seem to care enough to make a big deal out of it? And was it that obvious to the rest of the people surrounding him, too?

What about his dad? Did he also perceive the emotional disaster –disaster, period- he was?

When they pulled back they smiled once more and they started walking towards the front of the house; and when he opened the door, a smiling and, also, familiar face greeted them –for Kurt, for the second time in the day.

"Oh, um, hi," the nervous smile turned into a frown when those hazel eyes settled on the short, brunette girl.

"Why, hello?" Rachel greeted tentatively with a surprised smile and feinted to hold out her hand, swinging her eyes from the stranger to Kurt's wide eyes and scandalized expression. She frowned too, for a second before raising her eyebrows and exhaling with a laugh, realizing something. "Why, hello, indeed, my name is Rachel Berry," she reached out decidedly to shake Blaine's hand, which was dangling at the side of his body. He looked taken aback for a moment before reciprocating the kind smile, feeling sort of shaken up himself. "And you are?" she encouraged him, still clasping his hand but Blaine was too busy staring like dumbly at Kurt, his head hanging low but the outrage written all over his features. Blaine imagined him basically spitting his disgust to his face and he would have still felt as intimidated and belittled.

"Blaine, Blaine Anderson," he tightened his lips in an apologetic way for the delay.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Blaine Anderson," she nodded with a secretive smile. "I'll leave you two alone," he turned to her friend knowingly and left, not without subtly winking at a further befuddled Blaine.

An unresolved silent settled in when Rachel's footsteps faded and he had no idea where to start.

"Huh… Hi," he repeated. Kurt was clutching at the threshold with his left hand over his head, the other one in his pocket. His eyes were still strained, fixed on his feet and Blaine could see the way he was about to tear the inner flesh of his lower lip apart with his teeth. He blinked ploddingly and looked up.

"What—What are you doing here? What do you want?" he sighed pointedly, annoyed.

"I… wanted to talk to you," he shrugged, trying to pluck up some courage –not to mention, patience.

"Well, I told you yesterday and I still don't understand why you would ever want to talk to me and I don't—"

"Jesus, Kurt!" he exclaimed abruptly and stamping in desperation. Kurt winced softly and opened his eyes with surprise. "Would you just… shut up, for a second?" he begged, still showing frustration with his whole body language. When Kurt didn't say anything and stood there, frozen but seemingly willing to listen, Blaine continued. "Look, I'm just going to be honest and, like… Tell you the truth. I'm…" he licked his lips, searching for the right words and twisting his brain for his jumbled thoughts to unknot and, hopefully, pour easily enough out of his mouth, without making a fool of himself. "I'm tired of this," he began. Still having Kurt's silent and therefore encouraging attention, after what seemed to be an hour, he continued: "I'm tired of me chasing you and you being… reluctant to it because you're lost and because you don't understand why I want so badly to talk to you. I'm tired of you not being able to assimilate why would someone, or why would _I_, want to be your friend and I'm tired and sick of arguing with you every two days with you walking out on me and then me going back to talk to you and then you're all smiles and jokes and next thing I know you're leaving me alone again and it's just… We've—_I_'ve," he corrected himself, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, but his voice strangely steady all the same. "I've reached the point where I just… I don't care anymore," he breathed and fixed his intense, sickeningly sentimental stare on Kurt's.

Kurt continued to scrutinize him. He couldn't move, he could barely get any oxygen to reach his brain and he couldn't think. At the moment, all he seemed capable of was taking in Blaine's every word, which were leading up to _what_, exactly? Kurt had no idea. One moment he was saying something and the next, it sounded as though he was saying the completely opposite thing. He held his breath until the boy in front of him began speaking again.

"I don't care if you decide that I'm nuts for wanting to talk to you or to be your friend, I don't care if you continue to be all sarcastic and witty and snarky and… You. Because I think it's awesome and you're hilarious and..." he bit his tongue from saying _perfect_, pausing. "And I don't think you're a bad person, so I'm done with you thinking you're not worthy of someone wanting to be near you. 'Cause you are worth it and you're letting yourself go to waste by doing much less than what you could. I don't care if you're angry because I "stare at you" or because I want you to meet my friends, I don't care," he inhaled and wetted his mouth once more. "And I'm not…" he shook his head almost imperceptibly and blinked slowly, feeling cheesy but forcing the words to come out. "I'm not letting go again. I'm not letting _you_ go."

Kurt raised an eyebrow and inhaled, without realizing he was in need of air.

"You're not letting me go," he repeated quietly.

"No," he stated after a second. "I'm not letting you walk away again."

Kurt had never had so many questions in his life but either way he limited to bat an eye and lead his fingers to massage circles in his temple.

"What if I don't want?" he let out with the same airy, light ambiance, almost lost.

"What do you mean?" Blaine frowned, thrown off.

"What if I don't want to be your friend?" he shrugged groggily with his right shoulder. "Other than me not quite knowing why you want to get to know me," he recalled waving his hand, like it was an annoying little detail. "What if it's me who has a problem with you?"

Blaine stayed quiet for a minute, squinting ever so slightly and Kurt could literally see the infinite, numerous possible answers being pondered and flashing by in his eyes.

"Then… then you tell me and I back off," this time it was his turn to drop his shoulders and it seemed he was weighing the defeat with disappointment and of course, in his head, Blaine would be praying that wasn't the case. "Simple as that," Kurt looked at him and nodded unnoticeably, his offer sinking in.

He considered everything Blaine was revealing –and even knowing which his answer would be already-, his brain, working with lethargy, told him he was, too, in fact, tired. He was so very worn out, of everything that had happened in his life; the physical forms of his mother's affection and her warmth disappearing overnight, his father working as hard and being as drained as he was, the fact that even though he loved those three only, close people he had more than anything in the world, he still needed that _someone_ to talk to, and Rachel's voice casually rushed back to his head; _"And you also know you don't have to tell me anything, but maybe you should have someone to talk about it. Someone you can trust wholeheartedly and always, you know?_" and he felt his hands shake and his mind stammer as he thought of the possibility of that person being…. Well, _Blaine_.

"Then you'll have to get adapted or we'll have to work something out…" he muttered, finally, making that cloying and hazel stare unglue from the light wooden porch floor. "Cause I'll tell you to lay off or to bite me more than once, probably," he snorted and Blaine's hopeful and extremely relieved face left Kurt with no option but to roll his eyes and step away from the doorway, letting him come in.

* * *

><p>"Okay."<p>

The sound of a book closing heavily echoed in the upper ground. Kurt's head snapped and looked up from his worn out pages and smiled, barely showing his teeth.

"And?" he offered, not knowing which question to formulate first, wanting to know his every thought as soon as possible.

"It's…" he pressed a fist to his mouth, drowning a frolic beam. "It's amazing. I loved it!" he laughed and Kurt smiled hugely back. "It's so childish and it makes me feel so unattached and just… Perfect, it was perfect," he nodded and locked eyes with Kurt flattered ones, who considered his –and he felt a twist inside when he in his mind admitted it- _friend_'s words, a certain something within swelling at how accurate they were, accordingly to the way he felt. It _was_, after all, the stories his mother read to him as a kid. It would always make him feel _so childish and unattached._

"Well, I'm glad you liked it," he complied satisfied, after a moment of sheer silence. "Which was your favorite part? Tell me all about it," he bounced and Blaine had never seen him so eager. It was almost ridiculous how he could go from being mood-swinging, difficult Kurt to this whole other person Blaine was in the presence of right now.

"I feel so accomplished," Kurt said with a smug grin and raising one shoulder, minutes later, when Blaine finished describing with exquisite details his favorite part.

"Yeah, so do I, sort of," he chuckled, gleaming eyes studying the adventurous cover of the book in his lap, stroking it.

"Anyway, do you need me to recommend another one?" he asked, gaze back to his book, trying to regain some of his old aloofness. Not that he wanted to push Blaine away but he was being too nice all of the sudden and it wasn't his fault if Blaine had liked one of his favorite books for almost the exact same reasons he did –other than his mother having anything to do with it- or if he was smart and had understood and appreciated the same tiny things he had and continued to treasure each time he reread it.

"Nah, I don't really feel like reading. At least not right now," he admitted, apparently not noticing that Kurt was behaving slightly cooler than before and resting on the chair lazily, throwing his head back, relishing in how all the muscles in his throat tensed pleasurably. He sighed contently.

He heard Kurt clearing his throat next to the lines that, unexpectedly, came out of his mouth.

"Feel like going to, hmm, _Jim's_?"

His shocked eyes widened and he could notice how flustered the air surrounding Kurt was when his head sprang up, gaze glued to the book.

"But you hate Jim's," was the first thing that he shot. "No."

"What? I don't—I don't _hate_ _Jim's_, but—Wait… What?" he fumbled.

"No," Blaine repeated.

"No?" Kurt mirrored, brow furrowing.

"Thank you," he nodded quietly.

"What for?" he shook his head in exasperated confusion, bordering horror.

"For being willing to go to Jim's when you don't even like it," he chuckled and fought back the urge to ruffle his hair when he stood up from his armchair.

"I just said, is not that I don't like it, Blaine, geez—" he continued to stifle with a higher pitched voice than normal as he followed him with his eyes.

"Well, perhaps you don't hate it, but –Where?" he held up the book and Kurt pointed his chin towards the bookshelves that covered the maroon wall vaguely "—you don't feel entirely comfortable," he continued, uninterrupted, walking to where Kurt had indicated him and looking for the name of the authors or a tag for different genres. "And still, you're asking me if I want to go there," he finally shoved it in between the other two books of the series and lollopped back to the armchair, reading spot. "You're kind of stepping out of your comfort zone. I'm proud of you," Blaine finished, adding the faintest of mocking notes in the last sentence.

"You make me sound like a member of Alcoholic Anonymous," Kurt grinned and crossed his arms. "Being proud of me, for crying out loud," he shook his head with a smile taunting over his lips and he returned to his book, placing both hands at the sides of it. Blaine chuckled.

Deep down, he really was. It was sort of his personal accomplishment, he had reached a point in which Kurt had offered himself to go to the diner, this time not caring –or perhaps, just not taking into account- that David and Nick might be there again, especially after what had happened the day before.

"I think I'm going to try and finish reading Capote's novel," he said after a moment, plopping down onto the chair once more. "I really want to give it a shot, you know?" Kurt hummed in agreement distractedly and Blaine was about to open his mouth again when realization struck his eyes and made him look up.

"Wait, what? The one… With… The one you were reading before?" he asked, fidgeting with his hands.

"You certainly are eloquent today," Blaine joked, surprised at his loss for words. "But yes, the one I was reading before. The one you didn't like," he reminded him, testing the waters. In return, Kurt merely glared at him –severely- with a warning yet unadventurous grin.

"Anyway," he closed _The Turn of the Screw_, not taking his strict eyes off Blaine_._ "I _should_ go back home, actually, my dad might need me at the shop, now or later, I don't know," it was his turn to stand up as he brushed his clothes off.

"Oh, okay," Blaine agreed hesitantly. "I guess I'll just head home, then," he shrugged, watching without blinking as Kurt walked right before him and started going down the stairs. He followed and caught a glimpse of his wristwatch to notice it was only noon. He groaned in annoyance at the anticipated boredom.

"What? See you tomorrow, Noah," Kurt smiled at the elder as they walked towards the door.

"Have a nice day, kids."

"Bye, Mr. Beaster," he sang back, polite and diverted, before he focused on Kurt's question again. "Nothing, is just earlier than I thought and my parents aren't home, so… I'll have to make my own lunch and Nick and David are working and… stuff," he finished ranting as the clink of the bell hanging above the door goodbyed them from the inside of the library and the daylight greeted them.

"Actually I should go that way," Blaine nodded back to the deserted avenue behind them when they reached the corner. He stopped walking when Kurt didn't really seem to notice him and raising his fist and pointing with his thumb in the opposite direction. "My house's down there, so I guess I'll—"

"Wanna come over?" Kurt asked, blinking repeatedly, Blaine's breath and saliva going to waste. He dropped his hand with lethargy and eyed the other boy's expression.

Unreadable.

Nothing behind it. He couldn't see anything beyond his expectant yet not particularly hopeful gaze. How would he ever possibly fathom or filter any of Kurt's sincere realness?

On the other hand, a tidal wave of emotions hit Blaine right in the middle of the face.

At the sight of Kurt batting his eyelashes, having never looked so adorable, his walls down and inviting him to something as simple yet revolutioning as his house, his instinct was, at first –and, for the first time in his life- to lean in and kiss him. Right there.

He rarely came off as other than perfect or seductive to Blaine. But this time he had entered a whole new level and he just looked like the prettiest thing ever, no matter how silly and common –perhaps even, human- the concept sounded when related to Kurt Hummel.

But he couldn't do that. For many reasons he did not want to get busy with at the moment. The most he could, and wanted to, too, was to dedicate Kurt the most adoring smile.

"I'd love to."

* * *

><p>"Sounds like I'll have to read it?"<p>

The radio was low in the background, music interspersed with news and such, while Kurt prepared a small lunch for both of them, Blaine chatting with him and waiting sitting in a chair after having his every attempt to help shot down.

"Yeah, it was amazing, one of the first books I read when I got here, actually, I just really like Ray Bradury," Blaine smiled at the recent memory, drumming his fingers on the table to the music. "I'm surprised you don't know it, though,"

"Oh, no, I know it, I just haven't read it," Kurt sauntered across the kitchen and placed a bottle of cool water, a tray with fresh sandwiches and two glasses on the table.

"Oh, yum. How do you even know so much about books? I mean, honestly—" He grabbed one of the many sandwiches lying ahead of him, in the middle of the table. "—you're so… Cultured."

"I just love reading and I've read a lot," he imitated Blaine's action waiting a moment to suppress any chance of a brush of fingers or similar.

"But you're so young. You probably know more books than my dad, which is saying something because he is also so well educated and clever and knows a lot about _everything_. The smartest guy I know," his eyes got a little lost while he led the glass to his lips and gulped. Kurt was openly staring at him.

"Wow, do I detect a tad of extreme admiration towards your dad?" his singing voice falsely sweet and dripping a mix of irony and mockery.

"Maybe," he shrugged and beamed timidly, blushing. "He's just so great and he's admired by everyone, really," he pointed out. "But yeah, he's the best," he smiled with affection more to himself than to Kurt. "Anyway, so what, you've been reading since you were a kid?"

"Basically," he replied gingerly, after a moment; they were stepping into some dangerous ground there.

"But, when did you learn to read? I mean, I'm sure you couldn't start reading Charles Dickens at the age of 6, no matter how much you liked it," he rolled his eyes, laughing.

"So you don't know anything about cars," Kurt cut him in rapidly, not quite interrupting him and using his acting skills in his favor.

"I beg your pardon?" he tilted his head inwards, taken aback and the ghost of an amused smile hovering over his features.

"I saw you on the shop the other day when you came in with your father," he poured some water in his still empty glass. "When my dad started talking about cars, you looked pretty lost," he continued at Blaine's silence. He seemed to think about it for a second, recalling and gaping ever so slightly. Kurt knew he was making the whole thing up and prayed for Blaine to buy it and not return to the previous topic, which could easily deviate into a deep talk about his mother, something he was not up for at the moment.

"I don't even remember being there when they started mentioning car parts and stuff but… yeah, I don't know anything. I probably didn't understand what they were talking about," he shrugged. "And I went looking for you," he snorted with a bashful laughter and scraped over the smooth glass with his nail, avoiding Kurt's eyes which were in fact, secretly looking for his.

"Hey, Blaine?"

And there it was again, for Blaine. The desire to be trusted and intimate enough to just, naturally lock eyes with him adoringly and relish in the music of his sickeningly sweet voice. The casualty of it all, to be permitted to reach out and cover his hand with his own, to stroke the back of his silky one with his fingertips and to have the ability to move closer to him and press his lips softly to his. The music in the background, akin to all the songs nowadays gave the moment a certain unreal credibility and exciting calm.

All too soon, and not knowing if luckily or unfortunately, Blaine heard a knock on the front door. Kurt, who had his eyes nailed to his knees while waiting for a reply, blinked up, looking kind of lost.

"I'll be right back," his eyes travelled from Blaine's face to the hallway before getting up, dragging his chair back a bit and walking away.

"Two times in one day, kind of unusual, don't you think?" he could hear from the kitchen, not even making an effort to listen. The voices just soared from the porch as he twiddled with his glass and the rim of the table.

"Always so sweet," he distinguished that as Rachel's voice, he wondered, recognizing it from that very morning.

"I'll go pick you up at the library at four pm tomorrow, okay?" she said with enthusiasm when Blaine was done recalling the moment the three of them had shared if not hours ago and back to Earth. "You're always upstairs, right? So I'll jus—"

"What? No, no, Rachel, please, just… I'll go down," Kurt stopped her.

"But how will you know I'm there already? No, really, I'll go up to get you—"

"Rachel, please. I just… I know it might sound stupid to you but I… I don't want you there," Blaine raised his eyebrows. That had sounded pretty harsh…

There was a silence in the hall that left an oblivious Dean Martin singing _Memories Are Made Of This_, during which Blaine didn't know if he should sink into his chair again –he hadn't realized he had turned his head to his right- in case someone was coming, until he heard Rachel's voice again.

"Excuse me?" she didn't even sound hurt just shocked.

"I'm sorry but it's just… A really sacred place for me and so intimate, I hate it when it's crowded and it's just full of people—"

"Kurt, no one even goes there, and I'll be there only for a moment, it'll be only me, until you put your book down or whatever you do with it when you finish and that's it," she pressed in disbelief.

"No, but still, just… Please, Rachel. Sacredness? You know about that, right? Being… religious and all?" he started. Blaine frowned from the kitchen. What the hell was he talking about? "What if you had a shrine dedicated to one of your many icons and heroes and someone just entered without knowing where they're standing, having no idea how meaningful that place is to you?"

"If this is because of your mom, Kurt, I—" Blaine could hear a bewildered shushing and low, careful voices afterwards. He blanched without knowing why, but he came to the realization that whenever either of them got too deep or anywhere near the subject of their families, Kurt would change subjects right away.

"What about Blaine?" Rachel spoke up again and this time Blaine could feel the blood draining from his face as an absurd chill ran down his body. "Why is _he_ allowed there?" He neglectfully strained to listen desperately closer, catching nothing but stillness. Followed by quick footsteps.

Followed by Kurt's careful and quick searching face in the doorway.

Blaine jerked his head clumsily back in place when their eyes locked briefly, with the most ridiculously obvious ambiance, feigning cool interest in the cracks on the ceiling and before he knew it, Kurt was already gone.

He had so many things to think about, he didn't know where to start. The possible ideas, the daydreams simmering in his head; the improbable ways that conversation could've finished in and the silly, smitten lines Kurt would never really confess nor say –at least not out of Blaine's brain.

A minute or so later, the sound of the chair next to him being put back into place shook him out of his entrancement, Kurt settling in with a casual smile.

"Sorry for that," he said as if nothing had happened. Blaine thought it might be better that way, just to avoid all the awkwardness that would get in the middle if either one of them brought up the embarrassing fact that he had been stupidly and evidently eavesdropping.

"Don't worry," he gave him a lopsided smile and took a sip from his water.

"Just Rachel, seems like I'm having dinner with her and her parents tomorrow," he grinned, raising his eyebrows. "My dad, too," he added foolishly. Blaine offered a dumb nod, not knowing quite what to do.

_What on Earth_ was _going on_? The first time he had seen Rachel he had thought she was Kurt's girlfriend. But then she had smirked at him in a strange, confusing way, which only meant she liked him as well or that she knew something… What if she knew Blaine liked boys, or worse, Kurt?

The mere thought of it terrified him to the core. He relaxed his face, hoping Kurt hadn't noticed anything though it looked like he hadn't, since both his eyes were fixed on the bottle before them, in the middle of the table.

But then, was she jealous? Otherwise, why would have she asked why Blaine was allowed in the library? And good Lord, which _was_ the answer? He would have to mull over that later and try to untangle the frustrating mess of ideas and discard the least likely and most longed for ones.

And now they were having dinner with their respective families. What the heck was going on? If that didn't scream _boyfriend and girlfriend's parents meeting_ _reunion_, then he didn't know what did.

Once again, Kurt's voice awoke him from his trance.

"The other day, when you said I was better than most people in this stinking town…" he started, quieter than ever.

"Yeah?" Blaine shook his head up to look at him, their eyes not meeting.

"How do you _know_, though? We don't even know each other that much. You don't even know what I want to do if I ever grow up and get out of here."

Overcoming how taken aback he was because of the question, the sadness and –frustratingly enough- reappeared confusion in his face made Blaine forget all about Rachel. Still, Kurt's query wasn't exactly aiming for self deprecation of any kind, so he tried and limited to answer what he had been asked.

"I just… I see you, I guess. Not completely, yet, but I see further ahead of what you are right now? I think you could say that. Or at least, that's what I like to think," he started to build, experimentally, not quite knowing where he was going, yet aspiring for inculcating some encouragement. He didn't want Kurt to close up if he felt he was being belittled by someone vain enough to state they knew him better than he knew himself.

Blaine, though, was positive Kurt wasn't acting; it wasn't easy, pretending to be something you're not. And there was sincerity in Kurt's words and reactions and it was so instant, they just came naturally. And Blaine thought, the problem was Kurt had pendent to figure some things out.

Perhaps –and hopefully- he was simply too transfixed and alienated in his own world, therefore ending up in thinking _that_ was the real Kurt.

The deadpan look on the boy sitting next to him was unyielding and rather unnerving.

"You know you're crossing some lines pushing me to change, telling me there is more of me behind this cocky, bored, dispassionate façade of mine, don't you?"

Once more, Blaine was rendered speechless.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," he felt kind of conceited himself, being so pleased and satisfied at Kurt saying those words. He tried his best to look bashful and encouraging.

"You've got some nerve," Kurt raised an eyebrow daintily.

"That's why I'm pushing you at a slow pace," he nodded with a fond, secretive grin. "You're not dispassionate though," he remarked, pointing at him with the glass half full of water in his hand.

"I used to brim with life and passion, so yeah, I am pretty dispassionate," there wasn't even any trace of sadness in this last observation, it sounded more like resignation and Blaine didn't know what was worse. He was thinking of what to do –was it too soon to reach out in a physical way? Maybe to take his hand?- when a new sort of footsteps and a hoarse voice came from the hall.

"Hey, Kurt! I—" Burt stopped mid track in the threshold when he set his eyes on the other kid. Kurt jerked his head back to look at his dad, startled. "Who's this?"

"Oh, dad, this is Blaine," he turned back to look at Blaine for a split second before dropping his gaze to the table yet again. "My dad, Burt."

"Oh, hey, nice to meet you. Blaine Anderson?" he asked as he walked up to him and shook Blaine's hand in his, rougher, clumsier and bigger.

_Dispassionate._

The word resonated in his head.

_This_ was a dispassionate man, not Kurt. Of course he couldn't say that to neither of them –_"So what did you think of my dad? I know yours is the best, as you like to brag, but mine is pretty cool too, huh?" "Yeah, he was pretty dispassionate, like… dull and depressed, but hey, man, I liked his baseball cap."-_ but then Kurt's next sentence answered back. "_I used to brim with life and passion._"

Of course, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't _their_ fault. He had no idea what had happened and why it was that the Hummels had that somewhat sluggish air around them all the time, but the fact that it was so much more perceptible in Burt Hummel than in his son Kurt was oscillated between confusing and hopeful.

Maybe there was hope for both of them.

"Yes, sir," he bobbed his head politely after a second.

"Right… Right, yes, I've met your father. Fine man," he nodded back.

"He sure is, Mr. Hummel, thank you," his face lit up at the mention of his father, unable to restrain himself.

"Anyway, boys, I'll get back to the shop then," he started walking backwards towards the doorway.

"Oh, dad, we're having dinner at the Berry's tomorrow night," he called back. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure, Kurt, you know I love Rachel," Burt smiled tightly, but it seemed honest none the less.

"Awesome," he replied and welcomed the kiss his father planted on the top of his head with closed eyes, sighing in contentment.

"See you later, kiddo," he patted him in the shoulder one last time and waved at Blaine before finally walking out the door.

"Bye, dad," he smiled and muttered quietly after his father left. He exhaled once more, this time freeing all the suppressed anguish.

"Kurt?" he could hear small and unsure Blaine ask. And as terrified as he was, he did look up, to discover a puzzled and sweet boy, willing and curious.

"Dispassionate," Kurt nodded again with a sad smile, tears pooling in his tired, defeated eyes. He sensed Blaine noticing this out of the corner of his eye, getting his chair closer to his, doubt in his every movement. "I'm just so tired," he mumbled as he exhaled shakily. He dug the heel of his hand in his right eye, feeling as the warm tears spread, his other hand fisting over the table. "So tired," he repeated under his breath, closing his eyes, letting them come to rest and feeling the thud of his hammering heart against his chest when he felt the warmth of an unseen source closing in over his fist. Had it been someone else or the day before, his eyes would've flown open in alarm and horror, kicking that person out of his house.

With Blaine all he did was enjoy the gesture and when he looked at him blearily through the haze of the upcoming tears, and didn't saw the disgusted, diverted, awkward look –or the normal pitying one, at the very least- he was expecting, he disarmed.

He fell into Blaine's arms, which were there to catch him faster and stronger than he thought they would, tighter. His back was uncomfortably bent and his fists were grasping the now soaking fabric of his shirt, the other pair of hands running up and down his back, soothingly.

Blaine shushed him calmly, with the tenderest of touches, pulling him up to wrap his arms around him, his chair as close as possible, Kurt still taking shelter in his chest, arms pressed against it, his knees between Blaine's spread legs, both trying to get as close as possible.

"It's so, so broken, we're so broken," he mumbled through quivering, incomprehensible sobs.

"Hush," his deep voice vibrated in his chest, Kurt feeling it more sudden and securing. "It's gonna be okay Kurt, it's gonna be alright," he held him tight and calmly, the comforting _shhh_s hummed out as in lullaby and the hands travelling up and down his spine still, so familiar and warm.

"So broken," he repeated, as Blaine began to sway softly.

_You're gonna cry, cry, cry and you'll want me there,_

_It'll hurt when you think of the fool you've been._

_You're gonna cry, cry, cry._

* * *

><p>Songs featured in this chapter: Memories Are Made Of This by Dean Martin and Cry! Cry! Cry! By Johnny Cash.<p>

"no matter how silly and common –perhaps even, human- the concept sounded when related to Kurt Hummel." HOLY SHIT, WE HAVE AN UNGODLY CREATURE HERE ON EARTH, SOMEONE LET GOD KNOW AN ANGEL ESCAPED FROM HEAVEN, WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH ME? I'm just a silly romantic. Whatever. Hooray for Kurt being inhumanly beautiful and Blaine falling for him, woot woot.

Here you have a fun little fact (I just love random facts and knowing little things, you know? So I might start including these, that are related to the story):

_**Alcoholics Anonymous**__(__**AA**__) is an international __mutual aid__movement which was founded in 1935 by__Bill Wilson__and__Dr. Bob Smith__(Bill W. and Dr. Bob) in__Akron, Ohio__. _From Wikipedia, this is. Isn't it funny, that it was started in Ohio? Well, not funny, but it's like.. the same state and near enough, Nick or David even mention Akron in the first chapter. Perhaps that's where they really come from, WHICH CONSTRUCTION ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT.

I thought I had ended/would end this at 3 am and it's 04:48 and I'm writing the last stretch. I hope it's worth it, I'm going for two weeks to NY so I wanted to leave you a little something. I'll try and update Life too before I leave but I doubt it, I don't have much time, I'll see what I can do.

So I hope you like this very much and there's a whole fucking lot of progress in one chapter. WHAT, THINGS ARE ACTUALLY DEVELOPING BETWEEN THIS TWO? GET OUT, YOU MUST BE READING ANOTHER FIC.

I just hope you don't think it's too much all of the sudden, idk. They're not too long though, so… Mostly, though, I hope you like it, so yay. Bye, love you all 3

REVIEW REVIEW REVIEWWWW, it's my way of getting inspired and knowing what you think.

PS: The current, actual, precise date for this chapter, for future reference, is Tuesday 14th, June, 1956 (Let's just hope in real life that day was a Tuesday, fuck).


	12. Arguments

_Wednesday 15th, 1956_

"So, are you going to tonight's dance?"

The diner was unusually quiet and the atmosphere was calming. Wednesday's noon wasn't exactly a jammed time of the day, especially not in Lima, but for some reason, it looked like everyone had overslept. One of the waitresses came with two threateningly full glasses of Diet Coke and left again for the long counter with her characteristic cheerful ambiance.

"Do I ever miss one?" Kurt replied, closing his fingers around the glass.

"Thought so," he nodded affectively. "Hey, perhaps you could mee—"

"Oh! No, wait…" he fixed his eyes on the table for a moment. "No, I have this dinner at Rachel's tonight, remember? She came the other day?"

"Oh… Right, yeah, I remember," he smiled back, concealing his emotions regards Rachel and Kurt's confusing relationship. "Well, you'll go to next one, right?"

"Of course," he laughed.

"Great!" his face lit up. Kurt drank some more of his beverage, Blaine's eyes still wandering over his face. "And… maybe you could meet Nick and David?" he asked tentatively. "Someday?" His friend looked up, inhaling, drumming his fingers on the table.

"I'll think about it," he uttered slowly, smiling when Blaine's face brightened even more. "Not yet, but… soon, possibly," he finished.

"That's amazing!" his eyebrows shot right up. "Thanks, Kurt," he smiled at him, confident. Now that he could definitely feel the bond between them getting strong and not as breakable as before, being himself around his new friend was much easier. A tiny hook tugged at his stomach a moment later. "And I should probably meet Rachel someday, then?" even he could listen the camouflaged gloom in his voice.

"I think it's too soon for you to meet Rachel," this time he raised his eyebrows, letting out a knowing chuckle, seemingly, not noticing the change in Blaine's mood.

"What do you mean?"

"She's just… She comes on strong, I think? Not as aggressive, but…" he waved it away, taking his eyes off the straw, which he had been playing with for the last five minutes. "She's really intense," he went on. "And talks too much."

Blaine frowned.

"Ugh, now that I think about it I don't really feel like going tonight."

Blaine frowned even further.

"Huh…" he thought which of the thousands of sentences flooding his head was more appropriate. "What?"

"I mean, I like Rachel and all, but I just…" He thought for a moment, rubbing his forehead. "I'm not in a Rachel mood tonight."

"And what mood are you in?"

"Strangely, I think I just might be in a Blaine mood," he answered with a little grin, though it seemed honest.

"Whoa, that's impressive," Blaine teased, even though inside he was melting. "Well, what do you want to do?"

"Not go to Rachel's," Kurt repeated, letting out a new chuckle.

"Hmm, what if you tell her the truth? That you don't really want to go," Blaine suggested. He tried but couldn't understand how on Earth Kurt could be talking about his girlfriend that way, but still he –and he knew he was being sort of selfish- cared more about Kurt being, according to his own words, in a "Blaine mood". How sweet and good life was.

"No, but she asked me to," he sighed, resting his chin on a fist. And how sweet and adorable Kurt was, too.

"We'll figure something out, let's just… hang out now. Unless you don't want to or…" he trailed off quickly, still not quite convinced of how he should have taken Kurt's words.

"No, I do. I just told you that," and Blaine could have sworn the start of the sentence came out rather hurriedly out of Kurt's mouth. He smiled a bit. So _maybe_ Kurt had _just_ said so, but it was still nice to hear.

Blaine recalled the day before, when Kurt cried all over his t-shirt –for which he apologized later at the door, when Blaine was leaving, eyes still puffy and tear trails visible- and how he had not talked about it or whatsoever, but it was, to the day, the most vulnerable image he had of him and something valuable and appreciated.

"Do you want to come to my place?" Kurt asked after a moment.

Well, this was definitely being a lovely day, so far.

Blaine tried not to smile again, even though he felt he had more hummingbirds than butterflies sweetly tickling his stomach.

"Are you sure I'm not bothering?" he asked nonetheless.

"Blaine, it will just be your second time there," Kurt raised an amused eyebrow. "I'm sure."

"In two days? What if this becomes a daily thing?" he joked, longing for it to be a daily thing. He did feel a bit invasive, being around Kurt so much. He knew he wasn't stalking anyone and now Kurt approved of his company, and perhaps even liked it, but still…

"Don't worry, I won't let that happen," he winked, Blaine frowned at him.

"Should I be offended?" only thing he heard in response was Kurt's laugh, mixing with two very familiar others a bit too fast.

"Blaine, man, you'll never guess what just happened! You're still sitting in this booth, well, whatever," Nick's playful hand fell strongly on his shoulder and he gaped, looking far too alarmed when he sat next to Kurt, apparently not having a clue. "So, David and I were walking down the street and we notice tha—"

"Nick," the other cut in, eyes moving from Blaine to Kurt, who seemed to have an incredible gift to remain calm and, especially, not uncomfortable.

"What?" he looked up with an amused smile. David, ever the gentleman, nodded as discretely as possible with all three pairs of eyes on him, inciting Nick to avert his eyes, towards the boy sitting next to him. When so, he frowned and widened his eyes as dramatic as a cartoon before returning to a neutral yet confused look, setting his eyes on the table. "Wha…" his eyes scanned the whole place, as though looking for an answer. "Hey," he greeted finally with wrinkles in his brow, and slid off the seat, standing up.

"David, Nick, this is Kurt," Blaine interfered immediately. "Kurt, you know…"

"Yes, I do," he said as well, with a polite nod that surprised Blaine, who internally thanked the gesture. The other two remained quiet. They all did, for the longest of seconds, until Nick spoke again.

"Alright, I'm pretty sure we all have a lot of questions so I'll just start shooting," he closed his eyes and shook his head. "First of all, _Kurt_?"

"Yes?"

"No, I don't mean you, I'm talking to Blaine," Nick smiled tightly, not making eye contact. "I mean, _Kurt?_ You call him _Kurt_?" he widened his eyes, boring Blaine.

"Well, it _is_ his name. I'm not going to call him Hummel," he simply shrugged.

"Why?" he glanced back at David, searching for some back up. "What's wrong with Hummel? What happened to cocky halo? What happened to _Cary Grant_?" he continued, exasperated.

"You're calling me Cary Grant? I'm flattered."

"What? We never called him that," Blaine squinted, ignoring Kurt's small retort.

"Oh…" he stopped the attack for a moment. "Well, whatever. What about him being a womanizer and shallow and not a nice guy?" Blaine frowned, David licking his lips and grimacing quietly next to him. "Blaine, we've talked about this," Nick pleaded.

"Well, I don't care, we've talked and he _is_ a nice guy, you just—"

"I should probably go now," Kurt said and Blaine was actually waiting a dramatic silence in his head, given the situation, which was shut out by Nick. He didn't want Kurt to leave, but frankly, he couldn't blame him.

"Yeah, probably," Nick snorted, replacing Kurt in the booth, who merely raised a dainty, superior eyebrow at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Blaine," he finished without an ounce less of dignity and pride than usual.

"You'll see him tomorr—What?" the boy with light eyes continued, having never been more confused.

"No, wait, I'm coming with you," Blaine stopped him, standing up too and drawing a quarter coin out of his pocket, not quite aware of the few curious eyes staring. At this even David looked surprised but when Blaine sought in his eyes, almost –and not knowing why- challengingly, he found not anger or betrayal but understanding. And it felt slightly better to have the feeble _approval_ of at least one of his friends.

"You're _WHAT_?" Nick shrilled, pulling his hair.

"What?" Kurt said with big eyes, without breaking the eye contact as the other boy walked towards him and came to a halt right in front of him. "Blaine, no. Please, God, no. Stay with them, we'll talk tomorrow," he insisted, pressing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm going with you," he shook his head, holding the stare, fighting the strange urge to place his hand over his.

"It's not like I can stop you," he shrugged after a moment. Blaine smiled.

"I'll see you guys here tomorrow, okay?" he glanced at them without any resentment before going out the door, leaving half of _Jim's_ confused or amused.

"He'll—" Nick stammered, still shocked. David sat in front of him, as usual, silent and careful until his friend's –already predicted- words came out, steady at last.

"Well, at least he wasn't sitting in our booth."

"You're an ass," he dropped his forehead on his right palm.

* * *

><p>The silence hovered between awkward and thoughtful while they walked to Kurt's house.<p>

"You really didn't have to do that," were the first words that filled the air.

"I didn't really have to stay there either, now, did I? I don't really _have_ to do anything, right?" Blaine shrugged. Thankfully, he didn't feel guilty or whatsoever for having left _Jim's_. He still spent time with Nick and David –he was, under no circumstances, abandoning them- and it looked like Kurt could use a friend at the moment, too. He noticed the aforesaid shaking his head next to him.

"You're…" he didn't say anything.

"What?" he nudged him lightly.

"Pretty amazing," Kurt concluded.

"Not really," he shrugged, chuckling under his breath.

"God, and so humble! Stop that," he stopped in his tracks with an exasperated smile, Blaine coming to a halt a few steps ahead and turning to him. "What you just did was incredibly stupid and sweet of you," Blaine's eyebrows shot up, hiding a smile, and when he saw Kurt was sort of flustered about his own words, the hummingbirds started to skirr. "I mean, not… sweet. But nice," and Kurt resumed the walking.

Out of the blue, Blaine felt a pang of guilt in his gut. He knew where it came from, alright, but he couldn't quite understand why.

He knew he had sort of a crush, possibly, on Kurt. He wasn't in love, of course, but there was something about the boy that made him want to throw away whatever got in the way between the two of them. And it seemed like he had just proved so, with Nick.

"_No, you said it yourself a minute ago, you still hang out with the guys and Kurt needs a friend,_" he repeated to himself.

But that wasn't what was making him feel guilty. The fact that he liked Kurt, with him having no idea about it, made part of his own head suggest that he was being nice to him just because of that. And that Kurt thought it was because he was nice.

He felt disgusting.

"_Stop that!_" he silenced his brain. That was awfully stupid. Even if he didn't like Kurt _that_ way, he would have still tried to help him. He _was_ a good person. And either way, it wasn't like he was taking advantage of him.

"Hey, are you okay?" he heard Kurt's voice beyond his own musings.

"Yeah," he hurried up to Kurt's side and relaxed when he saw the soft smile on his face. "I'm sorry, about Nick, by the way," he rushed in front of his friend, so that he was looking into his eyes. "He's an amazing guy, smart, funny, everything. He's just… kind of a jerk sometimes."

"Sounds familiar," he dedicated Blaine a lopsided smile, hands in his pockets.

"In your defense, I might have come off a bit… Decided?" he adventured, twisting his torso towards Kurt once he was walking next to him again.

"Wow, you certainly assumed I was talking about myself pretty fast," the other mumbled, laughing.

"Well, you _are_ amazing, smart and funny," Blaine shot back, diverting things in his favor.

"I see what you did there and I approve," Kurt replied. "Well done."

They smiled at each other for a moment before continuing to stroll along James Avenue. They day continued to be quiet and sunny, yet windy enough for both of them to get goosebumps.

"The faster we get to my place, the better," Kurt muttered. "This way," taking a right turn on the corner of Julian Avenue.

"I know where your house is," Blaine huffed with a condescending smile.

"I'd reply with a witty remark, cause… That's the usual, but I'm kind of tired," Kurt gave him a one shoulder shrug and a lovely smirk. His friend only laughed and stopped when they both visualized the dancing hall at the same time.

"It's a pity I'm the one that can't go and you're the one that can but doesn't want to," Kurt whined, dragging the words.

"I might wanted to go if you did," he shrugged while kicking a pebble, to which Kurt reacted with a subtle and surprised look. He blinked a couple of times and returned his head back in place, confused.

"Yeah, well… I have to go to Rachel's, so…" he reminded him, in a softer voice than before.

"Yeah, I know. Sucks."

Kurt hummed in response and glued his distant eyes to the concrete, automatically turning to their right when they approached Blue St.

"Want something to drink?" he asked once they were inside, the aloof aura gone already.

"No, that's alright," he thanked before sitting on the same chair he had the day before, in the middle of the kitchen. "So, have you decided what you're doing tonight?" he started to tap his foot to the music coming out of the radio.

"I'll admit I don't want to go, but…" Kurt shrugged as he mirrored Blaine. "I have to go anyway, so…" They stayed in silence for a little while, before he groaned and threw his head back. "I so want to dance," he sighed.

"To dance or to go to the dance?" Blaine asked after a moment of mischievous hesitation.

"Same thing," he raised an eyebrow at his friend, gliding the tip of his fingers over the table.

"No, it's not, if you wanted to dance, you could dance," he stated, and continued, in response to Kurt's confused look. "Right here."

"What, now? Here? In my kitchen?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"Well, you do have a radio, so…" Blaine pointed at the radio, coking his head.

"There's no way I'm doing that," Kurt laughed.

"Come on! It'll be just like being on the usual dance floor," Blaine went on, between excited and unsure. "Surrounded by people, the music's loud…" he continued, with a playful nuance, barely leaning forward in his chair.

"Yeah, except all I have is a dingy radio, a small kitchen and a useless, little person," he cocked a skeptic eyebrow.

"Oh my god, that's so insulting," he let himself rest back against the wooden chair. "Your kitchen isn't small. It's rather delightful and cozy, and so is your entire house," he pointed at him, making Kurt let out a small chuckle.

"You're right; I shouldn't be belittling my kitchen," he nodded in agreement. "Especially when you make everything so much better than it really is," Blaine waited for the punch line, but the effect the words had on him, was still there, tickling on the inside. "You know, in comparison to you."

"That was terrible," he shook his head, deadpanned. "I thought you were in a Blaine mood, I feel so used."

"Oh, come on now," he lightly kicked Blaine's knee. "We'll dance in another occasion, oka—Are you seriously pouting?" he rolled his eyes with an amused smirk. "For crying out loud, you're such a kid. Is it okay if we dance some other time, Blaine?" Kurt asked, fake and sweet, making his friend's slight pout disappear.

"Okay, then," he uncrossed his arms and copied a childish smile, turning to Kurt.

"Do you realize you just pouted because you were 'angry'?" Kurt teased him further, making quoting marks in the air.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" he asked, dedicating Kurt a dazzling grin.

"No, it did not," he returned the gesture, in a more patronizing way.

"Whatever, I do not want to be a part of this conversation. I might stop by the dance after supper, though," he picked up the previous subject.

"You might?" Blaine asked, taking a sip from his water.

"Yeah, around eleven thirty?"

"I don't know if I'll still be there at the time."

"What? The thing starts at nine o'clock. What time do you usually leave?"

"Huh… Ten thirty?" he confessed, embarrassed. Kurt let out a loud snicker, clutching at his stomach.

"Whoa, I didn't know that wild façade of yours," he recovered a minute later.

"I can't be tamed," Blaine shrugged with a tentative smile.

"Right," he snorted. "So you'll leave at ten thirty today as well?"

"I don't know, it depends on my mood, really," he replied, vaguely dreading the hours that would follow dinner, nailing his eyes to his feet.

"And what's your mood today?" Blaine's head snapped back up, returning to Kurt's eyes and the anxiousness in his stomach disintegrated.

"I think I might be in a Kurt mood," he quoted adoringly with the tiniest of smiles.

Kurt sat there, staring right into his hazel eyes and fluttered his eyelashes a few times before looking away with a soft smile as well. And a whole lot of butterflies in his stomach.

* * *

><p>The night was humid and even though the clouds weren't whirling, a storm was clearly approaching. The dancing room where all the parties had been held so far had never been more crowded and the environment inside was just as heavy and disgusting.<p>

As the night had gone by, both David and Nick tried to talk Blaine into dancing with some girl and he had seen himself forced to shake hands with more than five lovely ladies and smile amiably yet tightly, since he had no interest at all in none of them. Of course, their friends didn't know the real reason behind this, but after a while they stopped insisting and merely focused on the dancing.

"Seriously, buddy, someday you'll have to explain why you're so against this," Nick claimed with a drink in his hand, dangerously lurching.

"What, you guys finding me a girl?" Blaine asked, feeling the imminent blush creeping up his neck.

"Yeah, Blaine," David added, who was also bordering the limits of enunciating words correctly, and giggling about the tiniest things. "It might be good for you."

"Besides, it's not like you don't have any free time," Nick nudged Blaine.

"What do you mean?" he asked, even though he could've sworn he heard a menacing grumble out of David's mouth.

"Well, you know, you're hanging out with Hummel now, aren't you? Or should I say _'Kurt'_?" he made quotation marks in the air, with amused scorn.

"Nick," David growled again. Blaine's head went from one of his friends to the other, eyebrows getting closer.

"If you're wasting time that you could be spending with us, with that Hummel misfit, then I'm pretty sure you might as well spend it with some nice lady," he went on, as if nothing had happened.

"What?" Blaine frowned, anger starting to bubble up inside him.

"See? You're so polite, chicks dig that, boy," Nick put one arm around his shoulders, overlooking Blaine's reaction, while David sighed through gritted teeth, averting his embarrassed gaze.

"Yeah, you know what, _boys_?" he spelled, exasperation dripping from his tongue. He took Nick's sleeve with two fingers and detached it from his neck, who barely looked puzzled. "I think I'll just go ahead, since I rather be spending some time with my pillow right now," he shouted above the loud music, letting his annoyance out.

"You always leave before—" Nick continued, trying to cling onto Blaine's shoulders again.

"Nick, please!" David cut him. Both Nick and Blaine –hardly forgetting his irritation- looked at him, surprised at the outburst. "It's okay Blaine, if you want to lea—"

"You know what? One of these days you'll shut me up and I'm going to break up with you," this time he interrupted his friend, who only glanced sideways at him, nostrils flaring severely.

"Okay, I'm sorry, I love you, happy?" Nick nodded vigorously in irregular axes. "You can leave if you want, Blaine," David finished with a deep apologetic look. Blaine studied them both for a moment, still frowning, before turning around with a vague nod as a farewell.

"See you tomorrow, fellas," he put his hands in his pockets as he started walking towards the broad, rusty steel doors.

Thankfully, the night felt fresher outside and the recent and rather silly argument with his only two friends didn't help the fact that a terrible headache was getting stronger as he started to walk down the street.

Farther more, a pang of guilt stroke his chest when he noticed a stupid pit on the end of his stomach. He had experienced that same sensation no more than five times in his entire life, probably, but when he did, he called it _depression_. He knew it wasn't real depression since his life was pretty much wonderful but sometimes when he felt lonely or sad, he couldn't help the way his stomach clenched and made him shiver.

The worst part about it was that he suspected –no, he knew- he didn't feel that way only because of what had just happened at the dance. He came to the realization, that –as odd and embarrassed as he felt about it- he actually _missed_ Kurt.

Yes, the boy he was supposedly spending too much with and had only known for less than a month, was making him feel rather weak. He surrounded his torso with his arms as he reached the corner.

"You're leaving at eleven twenty. I'm impressed," a voice said from the dark. "Are you sure you're not breaking your curfew?"

"Hey!" Blaine beamed at the figure, speechless. The slender silhouette detached itself gracefully from the wall it was resting on. Kurt's face found its way into the streetlights and a breathtaking smirk was playing on his face. "What… what are you doing here?" He stammered with a somewhat goofy smile.

"I saw you leaving before I had the chance to go in," Kurt shrugged as he walked up to Blaine's side, the pit reducing as his friend's warmth got to him.

"But you wanted to go so badly, what are you doing here?" he knew he shouldn't be pushing it that way, but it seemed luck had just turned to his favor.

"After being at Rachel's for so long I could use your company," he grinned.

"Oh, right, how did it go? Dinner," he asked returning the smile and raising his eyebrows.

"Well, it could've been worse, I mean… Rachel couldn't stop talking and by the look on his face, it seemed like Finn was rather uncomfortable. But his mother, Carole, was there, so… Anyway," Blaine nodded as he listened Kurt's night. "At least they kept the kisses to a minimum, otherwise it would have been really awkward," he laughed.

Blaine went mute and his eyes opened wide. He turned his face to Kurt's and blinked.

"Huh… What?" it didn't begin to cover his questions. All along he had thought Kurt and Rachel were dating, but now… Something didn't fit. His friend was watching him with expectant eyebrows. "So I take it Finn isn't Rachel's brother?" he hesitated.

"Ew, no, Blaine," he wrinkled his nose.

"So… Finn is…" Blaine wavered.

"Rachel's boyfriend?" he replied, to which Blaine frowned further. "This dinner was so that Rachel's family could meet Finn's," Kurt clarified in a tone that suggested Blaine was two years old.

"And… isn't it kind of weird that you went, too?" he asked, even though he knew it wasn't the smartest question, but at that point it was all so ridiculous that really, anything could be.

"Why would it?" he squinted, amused, to Blaine's surprise, who was expecting his clueless state to irritate Kurt to death.

"Because you're… the other boyfriend?" he lowered his voice. There was an instant of silence.

"Okay, what?" Kurt whispered in the middle of the night.

"Isn't it uncomfortable enough that your girlfriend is dating another guy and she invites you to dinner with them? And you are grateful they kept the kisses to a minimum?" Blaine shrugged and asked it in a way that sounded as though he considered the possibility of that being trendsetting and logical nowadays.

"Are you insane? Oh my god," Kurt burst out laughing, which seemed inappropriate in the silence of the night.

"Glad I amuse you," Blaine frowned, following Kurt's jerky movements with his eyes.

"Oh my god, Rachel's not my girlfriend, silly," he said in a high pitched, breathless voice from all the laughing, still amused.

"What?" he asked, completely thrown off.

"How could you possibly think that?" he giggled once more.

"I don't know," he shrugged exaggeratedly. "You two were together a lot, you talk about her, your parents had dinner," he defended himself. "It only made sense."

"In your twisted head that is, because it really does not," Kurt repeated the harmonious laughter aloud again, infectious to Blaine, the moon and the whistling breeze. He couldn't help the adoring look on his face, his thick eyebrows, oblique, his hazel eyes getting bigger and a tender smile on his lips.

"Well, whatever, whoever dates you will be lucky, so…"

Kurt stopped laughing at once, and his face turned plain baffled.

"Why do you do that?" he murmured softly, little and it was enough to intimidate Blaine.

"Do what?" he frowned.

"That," this time, he said more pointedly. "Where you just… I don't know, is like you're almost…" he searched for the words, fluttering his hands in the air. "Forget it," he sighed in an extreme annoyance and dropped them to the sides of his body, walking again.

"No, tell me, what? If it bothers you so much, I'll stop," he insisted with a voice that clearly returned the anger, although he was truly terrified.

"Nothing, Blaine, just drop it," he repeated, cooler than ever and continuing to walk with his eyes fixed ahead, ignoring the needy, scared boy next to him.

"It's gotta be important if it made you mad so fast—" he explained, trying to keep up with him and jumping backwards when Kurt turned.

"FLIRT!" Kurt yelled, facing him.

Blaine's heart stopped.

"It's like you're flirting and I have no idea where it's coming from, but you say things that boys only say to girls. The lines, the compliments, perhaps some… looks, you give me…" Kurt shut himself up with a big effort and formed a tight line with his lips, breathing heavily. The tension in the atmosphere was so disquieting, Blaine was afraid something might suddenly happen if he moved.

"Are you saying you think I like you?" he asked carefully, eyebrows firmly above his eyebrows, almost making his eyelids disappear.

"I don't know!" the silent anger he had replied with to Kurt's accusation made him sprang again when he shouted back. "All I know is that it's weird and it makes me uncomfortable and it shouldn't be that way. You should have a girlfriend and spend more time with David and Nick and not so much with me, smiling and joking around and…"

"This morning I stood by you when Nick basically kicked you out and you said it was sweet—"

"I said it was nice, and… Exactly, you shouldn't even recall those things!" Kurt exclaimed, brushing one hand through his hair.

"Then if it makes you uncomfortable why do you say you're in a Blaine mood, why do you laugh at my jokes, why do you like being with me so much?" Kurt rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Don't do that, you said it yourself yesterday."

"Said what, Blaine?" he dragged the words, fiercely irritated.

"That I'm the only person you want in the bookshop," Blaine said and felt a twinge of satisfaction when he saw the spasm crossing Kurt's face. "You said to Rachel, it's a sacred place for you and you don't want her there… I don't even know why and I don't care, if it's sacred for you, then you must have your reasons, but—"

"That conversation was not meant for you to eavesdrop, Blaine!" he cut him coldly.

"You're still not answering my question," he shrugged.

"What is this?" he raised his voice. "Are you trying to say that I'm the one that likes you?"

"No, I don't like you and I'm not saying that you like me, either, you were the one that started this, Kurt!" he pointed, competing with the other boy's voice volume.

"_You_ started this when you began chasing me around with, again, your stares and your…" Kurt sighed. "Argh, Blaine, you know what? I'm going home," he stated. "I had a crappy night and I thought that, perhaps, being with my _friend_," he emphasized the word, making Blaine shrink on the inside but wanting to shout back in reality. "Would make me feel better, but it looks like all I got was just another problem that I'll have to deal with tomorrow, so…" Blaine stood there, looking at Kurt walk past him, briskly, avoiding his eyes. He only gave a few steps stopping and facing him, finger in the air. "Actually, this is a problem I hope I won't have to deal with. Anymore," he added and turned again, walking towards his house.

Blaine continued to watch him until he camouflaged with the night and disappeared. When he had nothing left to spot beyond the darkness, he threw his head back and realized the headache had become a hammering in his temple. He released a final, loud roar that made him feel no better; now he had to add a raspy throat to the pouncing beat in his head.

At least he didn't miss Kurt anymore.

Now he was just plain terrified and felt abandoned.

* * *

><p>NDFEAHFIOAEHFOIA I can't post any newsletters here or anything so when I'm about to update but I don't have the time or stuff, I can't let you know, so.. SO SO SO SORRYYYYYYYY, I'm glad how this ended though, so I'm satisfied. Hope you like it and please please please, review 3<p>

love you all, thanks for everything :)

PS: I posted the date at the top in case you're kinda lost.


	13. An Unexpected Visit

_Friday 17__th__, 1956_

What on Earth had he done wrong?

"—So we decided we're moving to India, you know?" Nick's voice surfaced back into his thoughts.

What was it _he_ had done wrong?

"Mm—Wait… What?" he shook his head.

"You're not listening to a thing we're saying, are you?" he squinted, confused and partly worried.

"I'm… Not. Sorry," he sighed and turned his gaze to the milkshake ahead of him.

"What's the matter with you, Blaine? You've been distracted since yesterday and you don't seem your usual upbeat self," Nick continued, funnily moving his fists in front of his face. Blaine lifted his gaze and noticed the amusement in David's face as well.

"I'm sorry guys," he mumbled, attempting a weak smile. "I've just been with this terrible headache, I don't know."

He knew it was a lame, poor excuse, but it had been two days since Kurt had accused him of nothing but the truth. No reply when he had knocked on his door and no sight of him at _Lima's Bookshop_.

He knew he had given Kurt the option to let it be and stop, well, harassing him, really, but he _had_ said he was done letting him go. Besides, Kurt had yet to say the actual words. And that was exactly what he intended to go after.

"Too many headaches, Blaine, you should go to a doctor or something," Nick suggested.

"Oh, so I've used that excuse before?" he glared at him before covering his forehead with his hands.

He wanted to slap himself. What was wrong with _him_?

Both Nick and David were now staring at him with raised eyebrows, David far more amused.

"What on Earth?" Nick muttered as David whistled next to him.

"Everything alright, Anderson?" he laughed.

To be honest, on top of Kurt and his unrequited, creepy and inappropriate crush –officially-, Blaine was still mad at both of them. He had no idea why Nick's words had bothered him so much the last night on the dance, especially since he already knew he didn't like _Hummel_ and since David had taken his side. In fact, he had sort of stood up for him. But Blaine knew better than to listen to the dumb, childish side of his brain and try not to be upset at his two friends.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry, geez, I'm so sorry," he apologized and laid back on the shiny red booth. "I'm just a bit of a mess right now," he lamented.

"What's wrong? Something to do with your parents?" David asked, seriousness dawning on his face.

"No, no, it's nothing… Nothing real, actually," he admitted, shifting in his seat.

"Nothing real?" Nick repeated. "So this is like a fictional problem you're having?" David laughed again, Nick deeply frowning at the sound.

"You're unusually cheerful," Blaine wagged his eyebrows, confused but smiling softly up to him nonetheless.

"Yes, this is the most I've heard you laugh like… _ever_, David, are you sick or something?" his friend mocked him.

"And this is the most I _haven't_ heard you talk about a girl, Nick, so…" he tilted his head, beaming.

"Well, well, now, I see nothing has changed," a new voice said behind them.

"What ev..." Nick cut himself as he turned around and started yelling. "Oh my god! Oh my god, are you serious right now?" he shrilled, leaped over the red seats behind him and almost stepping on the couple sitting on them. "Sorry!" he exclaimed cheerily at them before jumping back to the floor. "Man, what are you doing here?" he continued to scream, so very much excited.

"I can hear you just fine, you don't have to yell," the stranger said with a friendly, wide grin. "I always thought Holly would be the screamer in your relationship," he pointed out, causing Blaine to sink, scandalized and flustered in his seat.

"You know she is, you dog! How I've missed you!" Nick hugged him tightly, the taller man doing so as well, eyes closed with wrinkles around as he laughed. "Come, come, sit, this is David, you remember David, right?" he asked as the other boy got up from his seat and hugged him as tightly.

"Hey, man, how are you?" he replied and Blaine caught the most insignificant waver in his joyful expression, one he couldn't quite put a finger on.

"And this, here, is our new buddy, Blaine," he introduced him, gesturing with wide, swaying arms. "Blaine, this is our childhood, long lost half brother –I'm kidding, he's our friend-," he explained in one single breath and patted the man's chest and shoulder, almost hanging from his arm. "Sebastian," he finished.

"Hi," Blaine smiled courteously as he stretched his arm towards Sebastian to shake hands.

"Why, hello," he purred in a confusingly contrasting way when he settled eyes on Blaine. They sparkled when meeting hazel mossy ones, forced out of his vague Kurt-esque haze by the veil that had suddenly changed Sebastian's voice, dying it with something disturbingly close to desire.

"Hi," Blaine repeated too quietly, shrinking back into his seat, smile fleeing his now uneasy features.

"Sit, man, sit, please," Nick went on eagerly, completely oblivious to Blaine's discomfort. "So, what's up with you? Where you've been?" he asked. The gleam on his eyes and the spark of admiration in his face was such that it would've amazed Blaine to see him resemble so much a child, if it hadn't been for Sebastian, now sitting next to him. And in such proximity.

"I've been living in New York for the past four years, you know?" he started, nodding his head indifferently. "I'm living in Westerville right now, but my parents decided coming here for our holidays," he explained with a twisted grin. "I don't know why, really, it certainly wasn't for me to see you again," he laughed and Nick cackled loudly as well. Blaine frowned at Sebastian's raw sense of humor; he wasn't sure if it was because of the way he had looked ogled him or what, but he already didn't feel okay with him.

"Whoa, man, that's cool, Blaine here is from New York as well," Nick pointed him after clearing his throat, taking a sip from his Coke.

"Huh. Is that right?" Sebastian turned to full face the other boy, the troubling mask again on his face only this time it was better disguised.

"Y-Yeah," he stuttered with a calm smile, fiddling with his thumbs and intertwining his fingers on his lap. He shifted again in his seat when he noticed how Sebastian's eyes followed his hands.

"I take it you're no longer dating Suzanne, Seb?" David interfered and as soon as Sebastian averted his gaze –and Blaine perceived an imperceptible smirk right before he did- the curly, dark haired boy sighed in relief. He owed David one.

"Yup, long distance relationships don't work for me," he shrugged, scrunching up his nose. "I'm more of a summer romance guy, you know?" he said with a raspy voice.

Blaine gasped and shuddered, jumping on the spot. Both his friends turned to him, raised eyebrows and expectant looks, except for Sebastian, whose secretive smile and eyes were elsewhere, his neck, covered in moles, stretching looking for a waitress and his long hand leaving Blaine's thigh unhurriedly.

"I'm cold," he quipped, being the first thing that came to his mind. "I get these… isolated shivers," he stumbled, closing in on his strawberry milkshake, very much aware of the guarded eyes on him. His stomach dropped and closed.

"Anyway," Nick continued.

The chat went on for long minutes, Blaine trying to steer away from it as much as possible and stay clear from Sebastian's thoughts or reach for that matter. He would've left in the spot if it hadn't looked rude and completely suspicious, especially to David, whose intuition proved to be better and more acute the better he knew him but minutes passed and he felt less and less safe and the unwelcome surprise creeping up his neck. His friend announced another dance coming up within the next four days, to which Blaine rolled his eyes and Sebastian let out a truly excited "Wonderful!" and a newly invasive "Are you going, Blaine?", hand finding its way once again crawling up to his knee, which Blaine now cleverly and calmly swatted away under the table, instead of shouting it to the whole booth.

"No, I'm not much of a party person," he chuckled nervously under his breath, leaning forward to drink some more of his milkshake, looking for anything else to do than stay there, under Sebastian's glare.

"Yeah, Blaine here just comes because we force him to, sort of," Nick explained. "I don't get why, ladies _love_ him," he smirked at Blaine, who was feeling more and more like leaving with each second that passed.

"You don't say," Sebastian raised his eyebrows again, this time looking slightly surprised. "Well, that's a shame. You shouldn't be keeping that from girls," he frowned, now looking as though he was giving him some real advice. "You should take advantage of whatever it is they see in you and enjoy it while you're still young. Look, come with us tonight to the dance and we'll teach you," he suggested rather firmly.

Nick cheered on and rose his glass, "I'll drink to that!" he winked and took a sip of his drink. David, to his side, laughed only a little bit.

"Oh, I… I don't know, I mean, I already went on Wednesday and I…" Blaine started, looking at him with big eyes and feeling himself recoil and back away in the booth, like a threatened cartoon.

"Nonsense, you're coming tonight," he said pointedly, raising his own drink which Blaine noticed just now, he had been hiding so much from the conversation. "You got to live while you can, Blaine," he said with a much more amiable smile now.

Blaine looked at him and wondered if Sebastian felt wise and superior saying those words, sure he was convincing him to go with that shred of shallow advice. Blaine felt gladly alive just by sitting in that diner with his friends or reading a book, and while dancing surrounded by people whose names he didn't know and that judged based on first impressions or none at all, was perhaps a much more thrilling experience –mostly because of the anxiousness-, wasn't something that he enjoyed much. He didn't understand how Kurt could like them so much and never miss one.

A soft smile graced his face as he remembered Kurt again, realizing how he hadn't thought of him since Sebastian had arrived. It felt like betrayal.

"Okay, I'll go," he gave in, far away from reality, only hoping to see _him._

"See? You can do about anything," Nick rejoiced for all of their friends. "We never convinced him that quickly," he turned to nudge Dave, who was laughing and eyeing both Sebastian and Blaine's faces. There was something wrong. His smile barely diminished.

* * *

><p>The simple and brief words of encouragement in front of the mirror hadn't done much and the small help they had supplied vanished a few hours after being there, in the midst of the heat and the teenagers and the loud, loud music –which was, in fact, the only part Blaine was somewhat enjoying, if he had been left to dance by himself or at least if busting a mere move wasn't seen as a call for someone to approach and start a whole other kind of dance. He wasn't sure which was more unnerving; the fact that there was absolutely no trace of Kurt in sight or how Sebastian seemed to accidentally and subtly brush various parts of his body from time to time.<p>

Every few minutes he glanced around, but he couldn't even see Rachel or anyone that he could connect to Kurt. It was all very hopeless and frustrating. He wanted to talk to Kurt _so much_, he actually missed him terribly and hated that he was mad at him. Would he be thinking about him, too? Would he be feeling bad or missing him as much as Blaine was?

A bouncy and happy tune started echoing throughout the room, making most of the girls begin dancing again with a renewed energy and enthusiasm, shaking their heads and twirling every few seconds joyfully. He noticed he wasn't even moving his feet and suddenly felt pathetic and empty in the spot, like a rag doll with no one to play, left alone.

He turned to his friends, who were dancing and Sebastian a bit far, whispering things to a far too innocent girl's ear, who seemed uncomfortable with the whole thing as well yet looked flattered and excited about the handsome boy paying her attention.

"Guys, I'm…"

"Leaving," Nick cut him, even though there was an easy smile on his face. "Go 'head, buddy, we'll talk tomorrow," he nodded towards the door. Blaine frowned, hoping this especially nonchalant gesture wasn't part of their new visitor's presence there; he seriously doubted Sebastian was someone Nick –or anyone- should look up to. He greeted David, who was too focused on his own dancing and Blaine laughed at seeing his friend relaxed for once.

He stepped out and inhaled the fresh air, as he usually did. He stopped there for a minute, looking around. Still no sign of him, anywhere. He rubbed the energy and thrill away from his face, inviting a little bit of drowsiness in. It was almost twelve, so he had been at the dance hall for quite a while and he was now only dreaming of his bed and home.

"Leaving so soon?" he heard a voice that paralyzed him. He turned quickly and caught Sebastian few feet behind him, casually walking towards him. He hadn't even gotten the change to complete the block.

"Yeah, I woke up early today, so…" he shrugged, offering a very tight smile, trying to let him know how much he didn't like him. He wouldn't be impolite because that just wasn't him, but he would by no means allow this guy to go anywhere near him. There was something about him that made the hairs on his neck stand.

"Oh, but come on," he insisted with an encouraging smile, looking for Blaine's eyes, which were trying to stay away from Sebastian's face. "Weren't you having any fun in there just now?" he asked, clearly going for friendly, but Blaine was too busy wanting to leave to open up and give him a chance.

"Not really," he set his foot down, getting rid of all impulse to make everybody with a nice, gentle smile happy. This bloke was probably the type to take a mile if someone gave him an inch.

"Then, is there something _I_ can do to make you have fun?" he implied, the taboo intention slipped back to his voice. Blaine gulped. He was actually saying it now; they were no longer looks or… well, obvious touches.

He shook his head, looking for any words, but the sight of his tall and slender, attractively confident figure approaching him with that relaxed pace was drying his mouth and making him feel more paralyzed than before. He mumbled in silence and stepped back. What was he doing?

"What are you doing?" he splattered out, in a lame whisper.

Sebastian tilted his head with a patronizing, still completely unhesitant smile. "Come on, Blaine," he hummed. "I know."

Blaine's heart and blood froze.

"What are you even talking about?" he played dumb, but his voice wouldn't stop coming out all shaky and clearly nervous.

"Oh my God, Sebastian, leave him, he's gonna have a stroke," a new voice said from somewhere behind him. "And we all know you're not one to deal with responsibilities, are you?" Kurt's whole face smirked, leaning against a wall.

Sebastian's eyes snapped out of Blaine and lit up, gleaming in the dark. A wide, toothy smile spread on his face as Blaine turned around, the relief upon seeing Kurt there washing over all possible embarrassment.

"You know me," he said. "Better than anyone else, I'd say," he smiled with an impish tint. Kurt's smirk barely got cold, eyes darting briefly to Blaine and back to his opponent.

"We both know you're the only one who knows you. And who understands what happens in that twisted head of yours, for crying out loud," he laughed.

"Probably, but you're pretty close too, baby," he winked dangerously.

"I gave up years ago, Sebastian, so stop trying," Kurt scrunched up his face.

"That doesn't sound much like me."

Kurt's features softened a little bit. "No, it doesn't," Kurt shook his head with an affectionate smile.

Blaine was dizzy at their clever and confident exchange of words; it was like watching a tennis match with two incredible and skillful players who knew just what they were doing, as though it was scripted.

Sebastian's eyes went back to his latter pray, as if suddenly remembering Blaine was there. "I'm sorry Kurt, but I was in the middle of something here," he said and the fear crept back to Blaine's back. He turned to plead with his eyes to his _friend_. "You of all people, should know how it is," he smiled at him.

"Sebastian, back off of him," he said, still leaning against the wall of a small clothes store, its window completely dark and reflecting the moon in the sky. "He's just a kid, after all."

Blaine's heart leapt at the absence of the coldness he was expecting in his voice. It actually sounded like he was trying to protect or save him.

"Then someone should at least escort him home," he shrugged.

"I'll take care of it, don't worry," Kurt almost cut him, speaking before Sebastian finished his sentence. Both their faces had lost the friendly note and it looked like they were just plain fighting over Blaine now.

"Okay, you can have him," Sebastian agreed with unpreoccupied dignity. Blaine frowned, he had never disliked anyone in his life and he assumed there _was_ a first time for everything, but he didn't regard his other first times being as unpleasant as this one.

"Great," he smiled once more and nodded with a soft whistle for Blaine to follow him. He got away from the spot as fast as possible, briskly walking behind Kurt and hurrying up to his side after having crossed the street. He felt an urge to check if Sebastian was still there, watching them go. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, he timidly began turning his head.

"Don't look back," Kurt said dryly next to him, eyes set ahead. Blaine's head obeyed and snapped back to the front. He knew his ride home wasn't long and he didn't want to waste any minute.

"Thanks," he said after a few seconds. Kurt either didn't want to reply or hadn't heard him, although Blaine suspected the first one was more probable. "So, how have you been?" he asked.

"Fine."

He still hadn't looked at him and Blaine was starting to ache. "Kurt?"

Nothing.

"Kurt, please," he pleaded, concealing his desperation. It wouldn't do him any good after the discussion they had had, especially considering what Kurt had accused him of. "Talk to me."

"What do you want me to talk to you about?" he asked between disgusted and annoyed.

"Anything, I don't know… I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, it wasn't my intention. I swear to God I'm… I don't… you know," he trailed off, hoping he would understand. He was afraid saying the words would only upset him more.

"You should learn how to lie," he tutted under his breath.

Blaine lowered his gaze to the ground, not knowing what to say, how to continue. He bit his lip, deeply concerned.

Kurt glanced out the corner of his eye, at his perfectly sketched profile, delicate and pretty yet rough in the right places, in the right way.

"You're not gonna die, you know?" he uttered, kicking his exasperation down a few notches. Why did he have to make such a big deal out of everything? Blaine's face snapped up to look at him, but his eyes were no longer on him. "You have other friends," he shrugged, unaware of how those words had made Blaine's stomach drop to his feet.

"What? But I want you to be my friend," he said with pleading eyes, his heart and mind racing.

"I don't see us working out," he shrugged simply. "We're too different and I'm too complicated for a kind soul like yours," he arched an eyebrow with a smile that could've been affective had it not been for the light snort that escaped his throat as well. "No hard feelings, though," he said, kicking a stone ahead.

Blaine came to a halt.

"No."

Kurt stopped as well and closed his eyes.

"Blaine, not this again," he threw his head back with a sigh.

"Kurt, yes this again," he stated and Kurt turned around, now forced to look at him. "I told you a few days ago that I wouldn't let you go because I know," he bounced on the spot, sure of his words. "That the reason you are pushing me away is because it scares you to have someone liking you for who you are," Kurt crossed his arms with the biggest roll of eyes Blaine had ever seen him do and struck his eyes on the street. "And the fact that I don't put any resistance to your repellent attitude towards me most of the time is just—"

"And I told you a few days ago that I don't like several things about the way you look at me," he cut with a cold void in his eyes when setting them on Blaine.

He went silent, with a resigned sigh. "Kurt," he tried again. "Please. I can't just stop talking to you overnight. I swear to God," he stomped his feet on the ground, whining and wiggling his eyebrows. "I just wanna be friends with you," he said, with wide eyes and quivering, anxious lips. Kurt stared at him for a few moments, breathing and thinking.

"Let's get you home, Blaine," he said softly and rested his eyes on him until the other boy began moving, looking defeated and almost miserable.

The rest of the walk went dead silence, both because of the night and because of them. Blaine gave up in saying anything that could either improve things or at least change them, he didn't want to pressure Kurt but he needed some way to let him know without _knowing_, how much he liked him. Or at least, to change his mind and hope he would someday like him, at least one little bit. Once they got to the street in which Blaine's home rested, completely oblivious and familiar and calm, his heart saddened and felt heavier.

They got to the door and Blaine raised his eyes, to look at Kurt, aware of how sad and desperate they still were. He was so right, though, male friends didn't behave like that with each other, they shouldn't even have an argument like the one Kurt had started two nights ago.

Kurt didn't look uncomfortable but nervous, as though he was looking for something to say because he felt obliged to be at least somewhat nice to the guy who looked for his company and friendship so much; it wasn't something that happened every day.

"Thanks for everything and… good luck," he said, sure to state that this was goodbye. He stretched out his hand, it felt more official that way. And slightly more painful, but he knew it was necessary.

He merely glanced at the hand in front of him. "Kurt, _please. _What happened to me knowing more about you than anyone else?"

"What?" he frowned. "When did _that_ happen?" his voice verged on joke.

"Oh, come on," he snorted, feeling definitely braver. "Have you ever cried on somebody's shoulder for twenty minutes besides mine?" he asked, looking him in the eye. He looked outraged.

"Are you kidding me? Are you really using that against me?" he asked, voice shocked and slightly embarrassed.

"Have you ever talked to someone other than your friends the way you talk to me? After such a short time? You said it yourself," he pointed with his finger, smiling at his unyielding defense. "I'm the only person you don't mind being there in the bookshop and I know, I know I shouldn't have heard that and I'm sorry but you still said it _yourself_," he finished. "And I know how important that place is for you."

Kurt was looking at him, befuddled and face contorted with indignation.

"That's not very nice of you."

"What, saying the truth? Fighting for things I want?"

"Oh, so you're saying you want me?" he attacked again, with new anger.

"I'm saying I want your friendship," he rolled his eyes, no longer bothered by Kurt's argument. "Stop twisting my words!" he laughed in disbelief.

"I don't see the fun in all this," he shook his head.

"Please, Kurt," he tried one last time. "If you realize you _really_ don't want me in your life, as a friend, then… okay, that's it. If you _really_," he emphasized fiercely, wanting to make a point and get to him. "Dislike me or whatever, anything, if I hurt you in any way, you tell me and I'll be out of your hair. I promise," he finished with a loyal nod, offering him a small smile. He knew he had said that before and was still insisting, but he knew deep inside that Kurt liked him. He got a weird vibe coming from him and couldn't quite make out what happened between them or inside Kurt's head.

The boy standing in front of him, sighed sonorously, nostrils flaring in annoyance.

"We'll talk tomorrow," he squeezed out with a huge effort, rolling his eyes and turning around.

Blaine's heart lifted and he felt his ears rise to the smile stretching on his face.

"Bye!" was the only thing that came out of his mouth, standing on his toes and barely waving his hand over his head. Kurt looked over his shoulder at the unexpected enthusiasm and frowned, amused –to Blaine's relief.

He snorted against his will and didn't return the smile until he had turned his head back ahead and resumed his walking.

Blaine opened the door to the main hall and slumped against it, closing it with a relieved, long sigh and a dreamy beam.

* * *

><p>He was clutching at the sheets, eyes wandering both the ceiling and walls of his room. He was tired, sure, but there was something nagging at the back of his mind that wouldn't allow him to close his eyes for more than two minutes. A pair of eyes, a pair of hands and a handsome profile in the night were tormenting his brain. Eyes that would disarm him from time to time, when their honey warmth and strength were too much and unexpected, hands that he sometimes –<em>so, so secretly<em>- caught himself thinking of, accidentally brushing his own hands.

After all, he did like the boy. Blaine was _such_ a nice guy, more than most people in his judgmental and quaint little hometown. He was from NewYork and there was so much to him, he knew that behind that veil of polite simplicity he probably was a wonderful and interesting person. Someone worthy of having as a friend, the loyal and understanding kind Kurt had always wanted. And he was genuine. Honest. _True._ The kind of person his mom would've liked for him to have as a friend. It ached to think about his mother, but in moments like this it only soothed the mess, as if thinking of her wise and kindhearted spirit made all confusion untangle and problems sort out on their own, the answer of what to do unveiled right in front of Kurt's noses. _The right thing._

And then there was Sebastian, with everything his arrival implied and meant. He was so bold and careless, and God, so completely out of place. How could he simply waltz into the city like that and start gaining everybody's heart all over again? He knew that with his personality, looks and charisma, half of Lima's population would be eating off the palm of his hand in no time, which was no good considering how ill his intentions usually were.

Which meant that, now, he would have to be careful of him as well.

* * *

><p>Okay, so I definitely suck. And I know it's been soooo long and you probably don't remember what happened and I don't know, I hope you still read this, someone. Anyone? Thank you if you are, and either way, I'm SORRY.<p>

But oh well, I'm very busy with lots of stuff and sometimes I'm in the mood for the fifties, sometimes I'm in the mood for New York, others I'm in the mood of no writing for five months :) yay.

OH MY GOD, LAST TIME WAS ON APRIL FROM LAST YEAR? WHAT? THAT'S A LIE. THAT'S a lie, no. I refuse. It hasn't, no.

Anyway, hope you like this and I'm so shocked, I don't know (the thing is, I'm working on too many projects, all for you guys, so now I have this, Look What The Cat Dragged In, TCON and a new one that will be downright EPIC, I don't care if no one reads it, it will -I'm writing it with a friend).

Loooooove you all and again, I'm sorry, thanks 3

PS: I know guys in that time probably didn't hug each other as tightly as Nick and Sebastian and they all did, but these guys are free spirits and... idk, I'm sorry if that inaccuracy bothers you.


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